My Twist to the Winchester Tale
by ispiltthemilk
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have got a younger sister who gives it to you like she sees it through her eyes and feelings of the series. It's her turn to share the story and she's telling it all through her crazy point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One.**

**Okay. So this is going to be that oh-so-common "sis-fic" that people seem to be pretty into. However, from what I can tell from some of the ones I've read, this one is going to be a bit different. This will be in the sister's point of view, but not only that, it's going to have more of a "story telling" flair. Now, what I mean by that is, I hope you are able to picture the story being told TO you, not necessarily just through the sister's eyes. I hope that makes sense, and I hope you get the experience I am talking about.**

**Please, review the story so that I can fix things that need to be fixed or I can know what it is you do and do not like about the story.  
I have not tried to take anyone's ideas or anything, so if this seems at all similar to other stories you have encountered, I am really sorry, that wasn't my intention and I don't want anyone to think I am trying to rip them off or something.**

**There is of course a necessary disclaimer as I own nothing related to the actual series of _Supernatural_. Just a love for the characters and the story line itself.**

**I really hope you enjoy this story! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Perfect. This was just perfect. I actually couldn't imagine anything more possibly happening to make this already delectable situation worse than what it was for me at the moment. I mean, let's run down the list shall we? First, my lovely father whom I adore, don't get me wrong; I'm every bit a daddy's girl as any, but he ditched me alone in some strange town and no direction. That's right; he just left me to rot there with not a single explanation besides the quickly scribbled note that read "_Find your brother. Love, Dad_". My phone was completely destroyed – thanks to my lack of ninja skills and cat-like reflexes and abundant amount of clumsiness – due to the two point shot I'd made in the toilet yesterday. I couldn't even call my brother to let him know what happened or my dad to try and figure out just what it was that made Daddy Dearest split. Every call I did make had gone unanswered by both parties and that seemed to be forever ago. Now I was sitting here in the tiniest lobby ever, handcuffed to a police desk for questioning because _apparently_ hitchhiking is illegal in this tiny town of wonder.

I felt disgusting as I sat in the folding chair and stared at the file cabinets that resided next to a door that I assumed led somewhere way more interesting that the desk ridden and file cabinet cluttered room I was in. I hadn't showered in what was probably the close side of a week, and to be honest, I stunk. But hey, the odor seemed like a better thing to deal with than the sketchy results of some low down, back woods, trucker bathroom. I'm tough, yeah… my dad trained me but I didn't grasp the concept or handling quite as well as he'd hoped. I still jumped when the gun went off in my hand, the kick threw my body back in twists and I'm not exactly rough cut like my brother. All this played in my mind when I made the decision that although I wasn't as tough as people probably wished, I knew for a fact that I sure as hell was not an idiot. I can handle my own against most, sure, but those men were much larger than my 5'7" self and I was alone with a single pocket knife. Johnny Cade might have been able to make that work, but I wasn't as confident in my lack of back up aide.

My normally chestnut colored hair was so greasy and oily that it looked like an inky black as it hung down my back from where it was gathered into a high ponytail. I had been told to sit here because there was a more important case going on in the town and a man was being questioned in the only room they had… small towns, huh? The portly officer pulled out some paperwork and gave me an annoyed, disgruntled look that clearly said he didn't want to be the one dealing with me in all my stinky glory.

"Now, what did you say your name was?" he asked dryly as his eyes shifted over my figure as I sat there chained to his desk, my feet crossed and stretched out in front of me.

"I didn't," I grinned, flashing my pearly whites at him. Batting my long dark lashes over my emerald eyes, I saw his hardened look relax and a small smile spread across his face. Oh yeah, I totally had this charm thing down.

He settled back in his chair when his phone began to ring noisily from the top of his desk. Holding up an index finger, signaling to me that it would be a moment – as if I hadn't already assumed – he leaned over and picked the device up off its cradle. "Sheriff's office," he spoke calmly. The silence hung heavily in the air before he suddenly began writing down information and his eyes widened at whatever news he was receiving. "Thanks, we're on our way." Hanging up the phone, he caught my eyes. "Stay put, would ya?"

I rolled my eyes and lifted my cuffed hands as high as I could into the air, which happened to be only mere inches away from the desk leg I was wrapped around. "I'm being held prisoner, remember?" My tone was snarky, I'll admit, but I mean, he _was_ the one who stuck me here… did he really think I could bust out when I couldn't even reach the paperclip sitting in my short's pocket? Because trust me, I'd definitely considered that option, and my arms were about as useful as a T-Rex's at the moment.

Either way, he grimaced and ran into the interrogation room. I don't know what went down on that phone call he got, but there were suddenly more than just the portly officer and me in the lobby slash main office area of the vicinity. I watched as the men gathered their things and another man stepped through the door, walking past me without a single glance. "Let's go," he ordered as he picked something up off the desk to my left and pushed through the main door behind my new best friend. As the last of them filed out, the lights shut off and I was blanketed in a darkness except for the light that shown from the moon through the window over one of the desks; I threw my head back and groaned.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" I yelled from where I sat. Pulling against the desk leg, I struggled with trying to reach my pocket and swore I heard a small tap, causing me to freeze instantaneously. Looking around the room with widely peeled eyes, I froze when I saw a shadow on the other side of the glass window in the door next to the file cabinets. "Aw hell," I muttered as I began jostling against the cuffs. Here I was, unable to get to any weapon, stuck to some stupid desk, and the only other guy that was deemed an authorities' problem was on the loose, only separated from me by a wooden slab. Awesome… The door slowly opened and a tall figure came through on cat like feet. Whipping my head up to look at him, we stared at each other for a second before pieces clicked into place and recognition crossed both of our faces. "Dean?" I asked, sighing out of relief.

"Becca?" he shifted his weight and looked at me. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I pulled my hands up as far as I could go so he could see just what kind of predicament I was in. "Oh… you know… picking out china patterns."

"Shut up," he growled as he moved and was suddenly kneeling in front of me, working on the cuffs around my wrist with a paper clip. "Dude, you stink."

"Screw you, I smell like roses," I bit back with a smirk as he finally released me from my restraints. I stood up with him and instantly threw my arms around his large torso.

I could feel the hesitation and I didn't care. I knew Dean. The guy was my best friend and he was the farthest thing from publicly displaying any kind emotion, but I was relieved and he would just have to suck it up for a minute or two. "Why aren't you with Dad?" his chest grumbled with the words as he seemed to almost struggle them past his lips.

Pulling back from him I looked at him with confusion. "So you haven't heard from him either, huh?"

"What do you mean? Becca, you were with Dad, what happened?" he had that tone… You know, the one that just makes you feel like a child who got a detention or something? The one where you have to answer while sheepishly looking down at your oh-so-fascinating sneakers that were hopelessly old and peeling away from the rubber soles that they used to be attached to?

"Well," I began rubbing the back of my neck and his face told me to continue to the actually relevant and important pieces of the puzzle. "Yeah, so I wake up one morning and Dad's M.I.A. Completely AWOL, Dean, nothing left except my duffle and a note saying "_Find your brother_.". That was it. I don't know where Dad is. I followed him as best I could and it led me to this town, besides, this is where his last case was centered, right? Well this is as far as I got… I don't what's going on, why you're here… why _are _you here?" We were walking out of the sheriff's department now and into the empty parking lot. "And _where_ is the Impala?"

"Come on," he ordered walking ahead of me by a few paces. "Why didn't you call me when Dad went missing?"

"I did call you, _you_ didn't answer your phone," I scoffed as I followed him.

Eyeing me with that "you wish" look, he looked forward and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I was on a case."

"And a case is more important than your baby sister? Wow, what a dick," I joked.

"Shut up," he barked playfully before stopping and looking at me with his shit eating grin. "I have a surprise for you."

I eyed him cautiously. Dean's surprises in the past didn't make me feel too hot. There was one time his surprise began with "_pull my finger_" and then another one it was him eating my burger and fries. Somehow I got the raw end of the deal every stinking time. "I don't want it, whatever it is."

"You'll like this surprise."

"Yeah, you said that last time… then I ended up with a snake in my bag."

Leading me to a phone booth, he stepped inside, nodding for me to stand watch outside. I didn't hear all of his conversation, but when I saw him flashing around that thick leather bound book, I flew the folding door open quickly and gawked at him with what I am sure was a vacant expression. "…same old ex-marine crap; when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates?" I asked him, grabbing the journal from his grasp. He nodded his head at me with a weary look before continuing his conversation while I leafed through the book and found the page where Dean's name was circled with the coordinates written underneath.

"I'm not sure yet," he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. "Sam? Sam!"

My head shot up. Dean continued to frantically shout out Sam's name before swearing and slamming the receiver down on the hook. "Sam?" I asked. My mouth was dry. "As in… _Sam_, Sam? Like, like, my twin Sam?"

Dean caught my eye. "Surprise," he frowned.

Sam was older than me by a few short minutes, and growing up, neither he nor Dean let me ever forget it. I mean, they were both decent brothers, but they were my _older_ brothers none the less. Four years ago he split and it seemed like he didn't look back. I thought he and I had been close, being twins and all, but the minute he stopped answering my calls I pretty much decided that the amount he actually cared was next to nothing. That's when I turned to Dean and he became my rock.

* * *

Dean and I were sprinting down the highway as the thoughts of Sam flooded my mind. I was sure glad Dean knew where we were going, because I was lost. I saw an old house in the distance and there was a car rumbling with its lights bright and blinding as we neared. It was the Impala and from what I could tell, there was no one driving it. As I skidded to a halt behind Dean, he slammed a handgun into my chest, and I heard a masculine yell and saw the flashing of a woman in white in the front seat. She was hunched over and staring down at the leather interior. Dean raised his gun and shots rang out, causing me to jump in surprise.

The glass of the window shattered and before I knew what was happening, the woman was back and Dean was firing again. Hearing him shout my name, I raised my gun and began firing right along with him, my eyes wincing and my body twitching with each shot. Dean neared the car and I lowered my gun. A body sprang up from the seat and the car shifted into gear before plowing through what I was sure was termite infested wood; hopefully anyway, I didn't see the Impala not having thousands of scratches on it.

"Sam!" Dean screamed just as I yelled, "Son of a bitch!" in surprise.

Dean and I made our way forward, guns raised as we hurried into the now open wall. Dean threw his gun to the ground and ran to the door of the car asking if Sam was okay while I stood at the trunk, my gun pointing everywhere as I scanned the house for any sign of any thing. I heard the grumbling of an answer from Sam and Dean began unlocking the Impala's doors and working his way into the car. As they did whatever it was they were doing, my attention was drawn away from them and to the flickering of the woman's ghost once more. "Uh, hey Dean…" my voice trailed off. He didn't respond. "Dean…" my voice grew louder and more frightened. Still no response. God bless… "DEAN!" I shouted.

There was a clunk as his head smacked into the roof of the Impala. Pulling out of the car, he turned to look at me, clearly annoyed. "What!"

"Sorry to break the moment, but your woman is white is reminiscing over there, and I'm thinking we should probably figure out a way to get rid of her," I seethed as the ghost picked up a photo frame and stared at it.

Dean eyed her before turning and helping Sam out of the car completely. I sped over next to him, never lowering my gun and bumped him with my elbow. "What do we do?" I whispered up to him.

He didn't answer me as the ghost stared at us from over her photo. Her eyes filled with anger and I swallowed audibly, my hands loosening and tightening their hold on the firearm as I struggled to not freak out. No matter how long I have been a part of this life, it still freaks me out. This crap just isn't friggen natural and it was scary for a reason. Dean might be able to build some sort of macho guy exterior and pretend he wasn't afraid but me? No way, man, I totally show emotion. Call it feminine or whatever but when I'm scared, I am straight up freaked. My body shakes, the color drains, I twitch, and then I stutter and hide behind my daddy or big brother… kind of like I was doing now. Twenty-two or not, I was a big ass baby when it came to this stuff.

The ghost threw the picture to the floor and I sighed out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in. I tried to calm myself down and kept telling myself to get some sort of grip on whatever it was that I didn't have a grip on. The lady moved around the room before a dresser slid across the floor from next to the staircase and towards the Impala. The next thing I know, I'm sandwiched between metal and wood, pinned, and the gun has gone flying onto the floor. Guess my perfect day just got loads better. The dresser was pinned against the lower part of my torso and Dean and Sam's waists, and even with all three of us pushing, it was pretty much immobile. I snapped my eyes to the ghost's as she moved closer to us and the light behind her on the wall flickered on.

I'm guessing it wasn't her that caused the lights to illuminate though; because her reaction was surprise and she began searching the house, causing the grunts in my chest as I struggled against the dresser to disappear and search around the area with her, afraid of what could happen next. Dean looked at me with a worried expression and although I couldn't see Sam's face, I heard his gasps of breath and uncertainty. Great. I'm guessing we all heard the water at once, because from what I could tell all, of our necks cracked with how quickly we spun them to see clear water running down off of the stairs and to the floor of the wall the dresser had been against. The woman in white was looking farther up the stairs, and I was blocked by my huge sibling, leaving me unable to see whatever it was she did, but judging from her face, she was _not_ happy. The water was flowing faster now and spraying as it slipped off the edge of the stairs and onto the floor. The ghost walked around the debris to the foot of the staircase, staring up at it with a pained, hurt expression.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." Are you friggen kidding me? Ghost babies? Do you know what is scarier than ghost babies? Well… a lot of things actually, but in my mind, nothing sounds creepier! Those sweet little voices that ring like Satan's nails on a harp, I shudder just thinking about it, and as a matter fact, I shuddered then, catching a confused look from Dean. Ugh, I hate, hate, _hate_ ghost babies. I blinked and then saw the ghost babies standing behind the lady, holding hands and wearing proper clothing; and they were looking at her with all of their ghost baby creepiness. Gah. Moving quickly, they wrapped their arms around her and she screamed as light emitted from what I can only assume was inside of her. It was like I was watching someone take an x-ray from the inside of the body, I swear I saw her skeleton as she screamed. The entire house shook and then blue and black smoke filled the air as the woman and the children burned and spilled to the ground in a mixture of goo and ash before leaving nothing more than a wet spot on the floor while the light and smoke imploded around them and disappeared with the scream.

Sam and Dean shoved the dresser off of us and walked past me, and farther into the room. I started panting and fell into the side of the impala, staring at the spot the three ghosts had just been standing in moments ago. I heard them talking and couldn't exactly register what it was they were saying while I continued to try and catch my breath from the pressure that had just been removed from my lungs and lower abdomen.

"Hey, saved your ass," Dean was now standing in front of me, eyeing the Impala after nodding to me and receiving one from me in return; a silent conversation letting him know that I would be okay and just had to have a moment to regain my composure. "I'll tell you another thing. If you scratched my car, I'll kill you," Dean told Sam as he inspected the vehicle and then turned to face our brother.

Sam smiled at Dean as he stared at the same spot and then moved to the opposite side of the vehicle, checking out every possible inch of the exterior. I caught Sam's eye and he just stared at me for a moment before smiling at me with that innocent "Dean's a jackass" smile that always seemed to cheer me up. I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around him tightly, receiving a very welcomed and missed embrace. Pulling away from him I punched him in the arm. "Who the hell do you think you are, not answering my calls, huh? Don't you start acting like Dean," I smiled at him only to receive that twinkle in his eye that I missed and wrapped my arms around him once more as I heard Dean grumble from the other side of the car, telling me to shut up.

* * *

We were speeding down the highway in the Impala that Dean deemed unharmed, minus the headlight that was not currently working. I was sitting in the backseat, leaning over the back of the front, looking at the journal that was sitting in Sam's lap while he had a flashlight on it, reading the coordinates that Dad had written down. On the side he had a map out and was finding out just where it was we were supposed to be going.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," he told us.

Dean nodded his head, and I couldn't see his expression, but from the way he said, "Sounds charming." I knew it had sarcasm all over it. His tone seemed held back, there was something there at he wasn't showing or allowing to come through via his vocabulary.

"How far?" I asked as I tapped Sam's shoulder with the back of my hand.

"About 600 miles," he said as he double checked the map and pulled the flashlight out from between his cheek and opposite shoulder.

Dean turned to face him. "Eh, if we shag ass we can make it by morning."

I smiled but Sam's face made that go away in an instant. He looked surprised and a little taken aback. He seemed to be struggling to form words. "Dean… uh…um," there was a silence as my brothers looked at each other. Dean looking hopeful and like he wanted to beg Sam to not say whatever it was that was coming out of his mouth next and Sam looking slightly guilty yet like he knew this was going to happen. Me? Yeah, I was sitting in between the two yahoos not knowing what this little moment of unexpressed whatever was.

"Dean? What's he not saying?" I asked as I looked at my eldest brother.

"He's not going," he answered me as he looked past my now completely fallen face and over to Sam.

I opened my mouth like a fish out of water. Not going? But, what does that mean? Sam was here, in the car, with us. Of course he was going. "Of course you're going!" I told Sam as I looked at him completely hopeful.

"The interview is in like ten hours… I gotta be there," Sam told Dean.

"What interview? Dean, what interview?" I growled turning in my seat to face him.

"I got this interview for law school, Becca… I could get a full scholarship out of the deal," Sam's voice was low and expectant, like I was supposed to just back this interview or something.

I looked at him with narrowed eyes and a tightened jaw. "So you're just gonna leave us again? Like this interview is more important than finding Dad or something?"

"Becca," he started as he turned to face me.

"No! Sam, why'd you even come on this case then, huh? To tease us, make us think that maybe, _just maybe_ we could finally have our brother back? And now you're leaving?" my voice cracked and I felt the lump rise in my throat. I was growing angry with myself for allowing my emotions to get the best of me. I was angry, not sad, which made my feeling of having to cry cause me to be even angrier. I hated that the trigger for my tears was anger; it made every fight with anyone completely awkward and stupid before causing sit downs that led to talks that I didn't necessarily want to have. Yet, here I was, pissed off and fighting tears from slipping down my cheeks.

"Don't be like that, Becca," Sam told me with a stern voice.

""_Don't be like that_"? Are you kidding me!? Do you know what it's been like since you left? No! Because you don't answer a phone to figure out just how much your family needs you, Sam; you just walk away and never look back… just leaving whoever might need you or miss you in your past with no real closure. No, I'm sorry, you're right. I'm just _being like that_, you know, a sister who feels betrayed and cast aside and like she was just some sort of "one last time" deal. Yeah, I'll just stop _being_ like that," I told him as I threw myself back against my seat, crossing my arms and sliding into the shadow behind where Dean sat. I stared into the dark forest as we drove on.

There was momentary silence and I saw from the corner of my eye, Dean's eyes looking at me through the rear view mirror.

"Dean, I gotta be there," Sam said quietly after giving up on trying to get me to look at him and forgive him for whatever it was that he'd stupidly thought he didn't do wrong. Idiot.

Dean seemed just as pissed as I was. He went from looking at Sam to looking out of the window, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he tightened his lips and mouth while gripping the wheel so tight I saw his tanned knuckles go white while he glared through the windshield. Dean nodded his head in response to whatever words I knew were flying through his head.

"Yeah… yeah, whatever… I'll take you home."

The ride was pretty much silent after that and whatever talking had occurred I sure as hell was not a part of, no matter what Sam said to try and lighten my mood. I was pissed and I felt like I had every single right to be, I was not backing down, no matter what he said or did. After what seemed like friggen ever, Dean pulled the car up in front of a building and Sam gathered his things, throwing a few glances my way only for me to glare at him in response. Dean shut off the engine as Sam stepped outside of the car and looked at us through the window. Glancing back at me and my angered expression, Dean nodded his head before looking at Sam.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later on," Sam suggested to us.

I scoffed and turned away from him, fully facing the door to the side of me, making sure my back was completely to him. I heard Dean respond with, "Yeah, alright" before a few slaps were made on the door and the engine roared to life once more. I sighed, ready to be away from the headache that was my twin when I heard Dean call out Sam's name. "You know we made a hell of a team back there," he said with a grin.

I didn't look to see what Sam's response was but I heard the "Yeah" float through the window of the Impala. Dean finally shifted the car into gear and we got out of there, much to my satisfaction.

"You gonna talk to me?" Dean asked me as he flipped the radio on after a few moments of silent driving.

"There's nothing to talk about," I grunted from where I sat behind him.

Dean nodded his head before a sound that was something between a snort and laugh erupted from him. "You know, I get what you were saying back there, Becs. But what do you want -" Dean stopped talking.

The radio was suddenly static and I moved from my spot and leaned over the edge of the front seat. "Dean… is that?"

"Yeah," he said before spinning the car around suddenly and flying back down the road towards Sam's place. Slamming the car to a stop, he ripped the keys out of the ignition, and flew out of the door with a slam, ordering me to stay put.

I hated not knowing what was happening, but when someone gave me an order, I learned early on to obey it. I couldn't sit still in the car and started freaking out when I saw flames and smoke pour from a window in the building. Flinging myself out of the car, I got to the foot of the steps just as Dean carried Sam down. Moments later ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars arrived and a crowd had gathered. I was standing next to Sam at the trunk of the Impala, finding it hard to look away from the disaster in front of me.

Sam sighed and I turned to face him. "Sam," I started but he shook his head.

Dean was suddenly beside us, staring at what it was Sam was doing. We both watched as a tear slid off of Sam's face and he sighed once more. I couldn't help myself, I wrapped my arms around him, and allowed silent tears of true sadness to streak down my cheeks, my large eyes meeting Dean's, a non-vocal message that I didn't want it to be this way. He nodded at me as Sam gripped me tighter to him. He let go but didn't push me off of him, allowing me to continue my embrace while he closed the shotgun and tossed it into the trunk. "We got work to do," he announced with a steady voice before slamming the trunk closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

**Before I launch in, I want to thank those people who not only read the story but also reviewed it and added it to their follow and favorite lists. I literally smiled ear to ear and you pretty much made my night, and believe me, it was crazy. It actually reminded me a bit of this episode which is partially why I wanted to make sure to get it out here for you. :) You guys are awesome and I love you.**

**I am breaking this episode up, just to let you know. I will work really hard to get the second half out as soon as I possibly can. I just don't like the idea of making the chapter too long. I mean, that's a lot of reading and a good author keeps you wanting more. So I hope you want more at the end of this.**

**There is a section of the show I did ****NOT**** include. It's Dean and Sam at the Impala talking about how they have to be babysitters to the Collins siblings if they join along on the case. I didn't feel like it had to be added because I didn't see a way to really fit Becca into that part of the story line with how I'd written things. Just an F.Y.I.**

**Disclaimer on the show. Disclaimer on the song [_Hot Blooded-_Foreigner]. Disclaimer on your cow... Whoa. Mulan reference. (Disclaimer on that too.)**

**Alrighty then. Read, review, enjoy, smile, re-read. Thanks.**

* * *

It was like a week since Jess had died in Sam's place and we were finally leaving Stanford and anything near it. I know the whole thing hadn't happened to me directly and maybe I was the worst sister and most selfish human on the face of the earth, but I was as glad as a monkey with a bunch of bananas to be leaving. Sam was depressed and on a mission while Dean and I did everything we possibly could to help him get answers. Fact of the matter was, there were absolutely no friggen answers about Jess dying. So now we were on our way to Blackwater Ridge near Lost Creek, Colorado to finally figure out what it was our father wanted us there for. Hopefully he _was_ there so I could find out why he thought it was cool to leave me stranded in some Podunk town with no outlet outside of burley truckers who liked staring at my, ahem, above average size chest. Yeah, guess who still hasn't told her over reactive, protective, crazed big brother that she hitchhiked across state lines to find him. Talk about a fight waiting to happen, let's ring the bell on that boxing match later on, shall we?

"I'M HOT-BLOODED, CHECK IT AND SEE! I'VE GOT A FEVER OF A HUNDRED AND THREE! COME ON, BABY, DO YOU DO MORE THAN DANCE?" For the time being, I was sitting in the back seat of the Impala, gracing Dean with my wonderful singing voice that may or may not have sounded like a loud shout, to the song that he had coming out of the speakers when Sam gasped and lurched up in his seat as he awoke from the stupor he had been in. "HOLY MOTHER OF BATMAN!" I jumped at his sudden movement as the book I had been attempting to read fell from my hands and onto the seat next to me.

Dean being Mr. Cool like he thinks he is just looked at Sam and didn't even swerve the car, "You okay?"

Sam wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Friggen liar, you don't jump like that because you had a dream about butterflies and rainbows, Sam. You were having _another_ nightmare and pretending it didn't actually happen. Leave it to the Winchesters to push their feelings deep down until they friggen explode. Come to think of it, I'm pretty positive that our daily lessons went: target practice, emotional avoidance, how to feel guilty 101, and sarcastic jokes as a cover for emotional avoidance. I picked up the thick book that was sitting beside me and began flipping through its pages trying to find my place when Dean asked Sam if it had been a nightmare. Which I noticed that Sam didn't really answer but instead cleared his throat as the words "_You don't have to read my mind_" came through the speaker. Ironic, no? And then the words I'd never ever heard in my entire life came out of Dean's mouth.

"You wanna drive for a while?"

That's right. Friggen Dean offered Sam the opportunity to drive! Can you believe that? No one drives the Impala, _no one_! I don't even think people were actually allowed to think about driving the Impala. There was one time, way back whenever I was younger, like seventeen. I merely grabbed the keys off the table and slid into the front seat, sticking them into the ignition like a good sister does for her brother, and he snapped all over me! Seriously, he yelled for so long I can't even tell you everything he said. It was a lot of "_What do you think you're doing_?"s and even more "_If you even think…_"s and that was when I _stuck the key in the ignition_ from the passenger side of the bench. Clearly by Sam's next statement, I was _not_ the only person to be shell shocked.

Well, first, he laughed. He actually laughed. Who laughs at that? This was a serious thing, and Sam is sitting there chuckling. "Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that."

"Just thought you might want to. Never mind," Dean grunted as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. I bet those words are signals of regret, huh,

Dean?

"Look, man, you're worried about me," Sam said over the song.

Clicking my book shut, fully decided that now was not the time to be reading, I leaned forward and crossed my arms before setting them on the back of the front seat and sighing. "He's not the only one, Sam. You've been having these nightmares since Jess died. Are you -" he cut me off.

"I get it, Becca, and thank you… both of you. But I'm perfectly okay." Liar.

Dean didn't seem convinced either. "Mm hmm," he grunted.

There was silence and I just rolled my eyes before leaning back to settle into the leather of the back seat once more when Sam grabbed the map. Whispering along with the song, I stared out of the window while Sam unfolded the paper on his lap. "What you're doing after the show…"

"All right, where are we?" Sam asked.

"Now it's up to you…"

Dean answered him without hesitation after sighing at me. "We are just outside of Grand Junction."

I ignored his sigh of frustration and continued my singing. Who made him ruler of the vehicle? He may drive it, but he couldn't control what I did in it, am I right? Well… probably not. Dean had crazy control to every aspect of that vehicle and he pretty much got his way whenever he told me to do anything. Compliments of Dad saying "_Listen to your brother_" all my life. "We can make a secret rendezvous…"

"You know what?" Sam pressed suddenly as he began rereading the map after he just stared it for a second or two.

"Just me and you…"

"Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon," he said over my voice in the back of the car.

Oh geez, here we go. I sighed audibly and began singing louder, attempting to drown out the voices in front of me. _"_I'll show you lovin' like you never knew…"

"Hey, can it back there will ya?" Dean said from the front seat, catching my gaze in the rear view mirror. Grumbling, but stopping my singing, I glared at the back of his head when he started talking to Sam. "Now, Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica -"

"We gotta find Dad first," I growled from my spot in the back, making sure to glare even harder to Dean when he looked at me in the rear view once more and narrowed his own green eyes.

There was silence between the three of us and the music continued on and I relaxed a bit as the words passed into my ears. Music always calmed me down, and I liked Dean's music. It's what our Dad listened to and it made me feel close to him, especially when he wasn't there. I felt like it was some sort of connection that he and I could have and when Sam left, it was one of the few things that helped Dean and I grow closer. I could feel the smile spreading across my lips as the words started coming out in a quiet whisper once more, gaining volume with each line.

"Dad disappearing," Dean started calmly, his eyes no longer narrowed and his grip not nearly as tight as it had been, "and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence."

"Come on baby, do you do more than dance?" I sang out freely now, not too loud, but loud enough.

Dean continued right over my signing, not seeming to even be bothered by it this time. "Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do." Yeah, there's wishful thinking, Dean. Let's be honest. Dad had answers, yeah, but if he had all of them and knew what it is that had to be done, would we still be here trying to fight this thing? Um, no. We'd be somewhere else and this thing would be dead. Call it pent up frustration for the past I've had if you want… I do.

"It's weird man," Sam said as he hung onto the map but didn't look at it.

"Hot-blooded!" my voice was gaining volume and excitement as I continued with the song. I was feeling better and the moment of Sam's nightmare seemed to pass.

"These coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge."

"HOT-BLOODED!"

Dean threw a hand up in the air and his voice came out loud and angry. "BECCA, WOULD YOU FREAKING SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!?"

Whoa! Unnecessary roughness on the field! I raised a foot and actually thought about jabbing my heel into the back of his seat when I sighed and just flung myself down to a lying position of the car and stared at the hard top of the roof. So I'm dramatic. Kill me.

"What about it," Dean asked Sam in a much calmer tone as he reached over the back of his seat and punched me in the thigh. I'm sure it was _meant_ to be some playful big brother love tap or something, but that bastard knuckle punched! And if you don't know what a knuckle punch is or how it feels, imagine running into the corner of a counter. Yeah, that crap's not fun! And this beast was a brute! He was way stronger than me!

I clung to my thigh with a cry of despair while Sam chuckled and I glared at them both, now bringing myself to sit up and still holding onto my leg. Shoving Sam's shoulder forward I grimaced as he laughed harder and I flicked Dean in the temple before throwing myself directly behind him so he couldn't reach me as easily.

"There's nothing there but woods," Sam finally answered folding up the map. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

"Maybe he wants us to ditch Becs like he did. I mean, did you smell her that day?"

I glared at Dean's spikey-haired head before shouting, "HOT-BLOODED!" at the top of my lungs, a satisfactory smile spreading across my face when he cringed and covered his ear nearest to my mouth.

* * *

So now we were at the ranger station after finally arriving to Lost Creek, Colorado, and I was staring at the stuffed animals that were attached to the wall while Sam and Dean looked at other crap around the room. "So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," Sam informed us. I turned and saw this pretty sweet 3-D map sitting on this table in front of Sam and he was gazing pretty hard core at it. Walking beside him, he pointed out specific things on the terrain as he talked to me. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place."

"Dude, check out this bear," Dean interrupted from where he stood a few feet away, looking at a picture.

I walked beside him and looked at the bear. Holy guacamole, that bear was a big as a house! "That bear is as big as a house!" I told Dean with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he smirked at me.

"My god, it's like there's two of you," I heard Sam sigh. I just smiled while Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area, Dean, it's no nature hike that's for sure," Sam said as he walked over to where we were and looked at the photo over my head. The kid's gigantic.

I heard the footsteps before I heard the voice, and then turned around only to be staring at the back of Sam's coat. Awesome. "You boys aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" a voice asked from the other side of the giant. Clearing my throat, I pushed past Sam and Dean and they each stumbled to the side before narrowing eyes at me and frowning. "Oh," the ranger said with a shy smile. "I didn't see you back there. How are you, Miss?"

"No sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper," Sam spoke before I could get a chance to answer the man. I just grinned and it stretched when the man's eyes sparkled at me. I won't lie, we are some pretty attractive people, and the worst part was that all three of us knew while only two really used it to their advantage. One a bit more than the other, and that was only because he was a hypocritical, man whore who… whoa. Getting back on track here…

"Recycle man," Dean grinned while raising a fist. Fight the power, Dean, fight the power.

"Bull," the ranger's voice snapped quickly and I chuckled and tried to cover it with a cough. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?'

I composed myself and nodded to the ranger. "Yes. Yes we are, Ranger Wilkinson," I told him after making sure to check his name tag. "She and I are practically sister's," I lied before receiving an pinch to the side while Sam gave me wide eyes and Dean closed his eyes briefly while tightening his jaw.

"Well then you know exactly what I told her. Her brother filled out a back-country permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing person's now is it?" Um, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and say that Ranger Wilkinson definitely could have said that with _way_ less attitude. Dean just shook his head in response to Ranger Cranky-Pants before he continued talking down to us. "You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will," Dean cut me off and grabbed onto the back of my shirt as I began to lurch forward out of instinct. I don't like being talked down to, especially when you aren't my brothers or dad. If I don't know you, don't act like you are better than me. I narrowed my eyes but didn't fight Dean's silent order to shut my hole and chill. "Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?"

The ranger eyed me questioningly for a moment before sighing and turning to face Dean. "That's putting it mildly."

"Actually, you know what would help us is if I could show her a copy of that back-country permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date," Dean told the ranger.

I spun on my heel to go back to stand next to Sam who was looking at the 3-D map once more while we waited for that permit. Once we got it, we booked it from the station and Dean started laughing before he folded the permit and stuck it in his pocket.

"What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asked as we came to the Impala. I snorted at his assumption and Dean just looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

As Sam walked around the front of the car and stared over the hood at Dean and me; my eldest brother and I exchanged a quick glance before facing our sibling. We each had an eyebrow raised and looked at Sam as though he was crazy. "I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?" Dean told Sam. I mean, duh. The reason was obvious to me, and it should have been to Sam.

There was a pause while Dean and I stared at Sam and watched him become clearly uncomfortable under our gaze. I stuck my tongue in my cheek and tilted my head to the side and he eyed me with a lowered brow and slack jaw. "What?" he practically exclaimed when the word finally made it out of his mouth.

"Since when are you all shoot first ask questions later, anyway?" Dean questioned.

"Since now," Sam stated simply as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He then got in the car without another word, leaving Dean and I to stand there with a loss for words.

Dean looked at me and smiled. "Really?" he asked.

"He's back," I sang with a grin before following the motion of Dean and sliding myself into the Impala.

* * *

We were standing outside of this Haley girl's house and Dean just smiled. "Can't wait to meet the girl that's practically your sister, Becs, tell me, what is Haley like?"

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes as I pressed the doorbell.

It was only seconds later when Haley Collins opened the door and looked shocked to see two giants and their average height sister standing on her porch. She was actually a really pretty girl with brown hair that appeared to curl naturally. Before she could even say "_Hello"_ Dean was speaking and in full blown "figure out the case" mode.

"You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam and Becca. We're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother, Tommy."

Haley hesitated and I couldn't blame her. What kind of idiot believes that some ranger in the small town she lives in sent over three random people to ask her questions, come on now.

"Lemme see some ID," she told Dean with a nod.

Dean pulled his fake ID and held it to the screen while Haley looked at it, and then at him. I watched as he smiled at her, and then my face went into shock when she opened the door and told us to come on in. Yep, the girl was definitely clueless to what it was that was logical out there.

"Thanks," Dean told her as the door just swiped past the edge my nose and into his calloused palm. I saw Haley look over my shoulder and towards the street. Turning, I saw what she was staring at; the shiny Impala that was parked on the curb outside of her charming small town home.

"That yours?" she asked no one in particular.

Dean looked at the car and that twinkle of pride entered his eye and a genuine smile crossed his face. "Yeah," he addressed as Sam looked to see what everyone was staring at.

"Nice car," she said before leading us into her home. Great, poke the sleeping bear that is my brother's ego. Way to go, Haley. I joined Sam in the rolling of the eyes when Dean mouthed what I'm sure was some sort of dude thing for "_she so wants me_" or the like.

I followed Dean into the kitchen and saw some kid sitting at the table on a computer, only looking away to glance at us quickly before he did a double take and scanned my body. Oh, if Dean could be the playboy and milk it, I was so milking this. I sidled up beside the boy and stuck out my hand and straightened my posture while also sticking out my chest. "Hey," I grinned. "I'm Becca."

Apparently his name was Ben and he was Tommy and Haley's brother. I was now sitting beside him on the chair, leaning maybe a bit too much towards him and listening, or at least pretending to listen to every word he said as though it was air I needed. He was telling us, along with Haley, about how he was positive that something was seriously wrong with Tommy.

The sound of Sam and Dean's simultaneous throat clearing broke my moment and I sighed before turning to look at them with annoyance. "So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?" he asked Haley.

She walked back into the room with a bowl of something, placing it on the table. "He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos… We haven't heard anything in over three days now."

"Well… Maybe he can't get cell reception," I told Ben with sincere hope in my voice as I placed a hand on his forearm, making sure to smirk at my older brothers as I did so. Ben didn't catch on, but Dean did, and from the look on his face I was mimicking his playboy actions perfectly. Score. Maybe now he'll know what he looks like when he drools over almost every attractive girl we meet, Haley being no exception.

"He's got a satellite phone, too," Haley cut in with a "matter of fact" tone that I didn't really enjoy.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean asked as I opened my mouth to respond.

Ben answered the question quietly. "He wouldn't do that." I frowned, not understanding why Ben looked away quickly to stare at his plate again until I lifted my eyes and saw Dean and Sam's faces. They had that crazy "_touch her and die_" look.

Standing up, I stood next to Sam, not wanting to escalate the moment any further. I mean, kill a chick for having fun why don't you.

"Our parents are gone. It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other," Haley told us quietly after she continued to set the table with food. I don't know why she seemed to want to keep the parent thing a secret. I'm pretty sure that if Ben lived there, he was aware of the fact that their parents weren't. Maybe it's my "get over it" attitude, but you can't dwell, and if you_ are_ going to dwell, you dwell by yourself. You don't flaunt that crap.

Leave it to good ol' Sam to break the tense moment. "Can I see the pictures he sent you?"

"Yeah," Haley nodded her head without hesitation.

Standing behind Ben's chair, we all stared as Haley pulled up photos on the laptop that they'd moved before she started setting the table. Pulling up a photo, she let it sit on the screen for a moment. "That's Tommy." She clicked on one video and pressed the play button.

_"Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow."_ Tommy spoke on the video. I smacked Sam as we watched. I wasn't sure if he saw it, but I sure as hell did. Something outside that tent moved, and whatever it was, it was friggen huge. Like, Sam size or bigger. His eyes met mine and he nodded. He saw the shadow too then. Good.

"We'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing," Dean told Haley while I replayed the video for Sam and me.

Haley turned away from us to speak to Dean. "Then maybe I'll see you there. Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself." What? Is this girl insane? Did she not see the shadow on the tent wall? Apparently not, because if she had, she would have realized that there was something out there after her brother. This lack of logical thinking was beginning to aggravate me. If it was Sam or Dean out there, I mean, yeah, I would totally be doing going after that thing. But there's a difference between Haley and me. I'm aware of what could be out there, and she's clueless.

"I think I know how you feel," Dean told her with sincerity. The tone of his voice made me look at him and furrow my brow. He was being legit with this girl, and that was a first. Now I felt like a total douche for playing with Ben, even if he didn't know that I was intentionally flirting with him. Great, now I look like a sleeze.

"Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?" Sam asked, breaking me out of my new self loathing.

Haley looked at him and nodded her head with a small smile. "Sure."

* * *

I carried three mugs of beer to the table that Sam and Dean were seated at and talking. This bar was crowded and I was trying to avoid spilling the beer, but because I am me, I tripped and dropped the mugs. Great. Catching an eye roll from Dean before he turned back to talk to Sam, I stuck my tongue out at him and returned to the bar to attempt my beer run once more. Setting the glasses on the table successfully, I caught the end of Sam's sentence.

"…of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move."

"I take it you showed him the video?" I asked as I sipped on my mug, staring at Sam with raised brows and receiving a nod.

I raised a brow when Dean hit Sam and caused him to look with surprise.

"Told you something weird was going on," Dean said.

"Oh yeah, you're a natural," I joked as Sam just agreed with a "Yeah."

I watched as he closed the laptop and then pulled out a newspaper article and handed it over to Dean. Stepping around the table, I leaned against Dean's back and read the article over his shoulder.

"I got one more thing. In fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid… Barely crawled out of the woods alive," Sam explained.

I glanced over the article while Dean asked the question I was trying to find the answer to. "Is there a name?"

* * *

I was told to sit in the car. Like a child. Am I a child? Hell no. Do I act like a child? If I can't, then neither can Dean, so good luck making me "act my age". The rebel part of me was the instigator that led to me not actually sitting _in_ the car, but instead leaning against the door facing the house that sat in front of me. Bad ass, I know. The sky was dark and filled with so many stars I couldn't even believe it. The view was incredible and I smiled to myself as I stared at them. There were constellations I didn't know, and some I was able to point out, so that was pretty cool. I felt at peace as thoughts from the past week rushed at me. Sam was different, even if he was back. Dean was right when he'd asked the "shoot first" question. Sam was not an impulse kind of person. He researched, he took steps, he thought things through and always tried to find some sort of outcome that didn't result in any type of hunter tactic. He was logical and I definitely respected that. But these nightmares he was having were not good. He would jolt awake and always had a face filled with terror, and that scared me. I didn't like knowing that he was having an internal fight, even if we had been taught to keep that crap to ourselves, Sam and I had always shared before… but that _was _before. If he thought he was the only one keeping stuff held in for the past two years, he was wrong. When he walked out so did my daily venting system. Then I was left with a pissed off father and a guilt ridden brother. Ugh, so much for peace.

Groaning as a crick began to form in my neck, I looked around me. It sure was cold in Colorado, not to my surprise. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed my hands up and down, trying to create warmth. It was not working. There was a snap of a twig in the distance and I jumped. I tried to create a shape out of the dark abyss that was the woods in front of me, and that wasn't working either. Now, I know I said ghost babies freak me out, but they aren't part of the three things that scare me most. The three things that _do_ cause me to go into full blown terror, tears and all, are bugs, being in the woods, and skin walkers. Ghost babies are right there though, most definitely. But being in the woods alone trumped all other fear. Especially at night when you couldn't see what was going on around you.

Convinced I was going to die I flew into the car and looked out of the window, sighing as a raccoon emerged. Yep, I need to get this fear in check. Sam and Dean were walking towards the Impala and a smile spread across my face as I lied down in my seat. Even if I was still scared, they would save me from any raccoon I crossed. Dean started the car after sliding in and turned around, knuckle punching me on the thigh, again.

"OW, you bastard! "

"Get your feet off the interior!" he roared as Sam shot me a sympathetic smile. Man I wished Dean was a girl…

The ride to the motel was filled with typical bickering and laughter that usually accompanied Dean and I picking on Sam, which then always turned into Sam and I picking on Dean, which then sadly turned to Dean and Sam picking on me… and once we hit that landmark, it never friggen switched back to picking on either of them. By this time, I was defending myself against them for the time I stuffed my bra and Dad caught me. Not one of my brighter moments in life, but hey! I didn't have anyone to help me out and I didn't like the fact that the material hung off of me like a wet swimsuit that was two sizes too big. What shocked me was that when I mentioned that I no longer had to stuff my bra, they then made fun of me for that! Yeah, I'm Sam's twin, but was it really necessary for Dean to say that if I didn't have boobs I'd look just like Sam? The answer is no, it was completely unnecessary to say. I did not look that much like Sam. None the less, the minute I could do it without them noticing, I looked in the window of the Impala and checked. And no, even if I did have a flat chest, I wouldn't look like Sam. I'm way more attractive.

We were walking down some stupid hallway of rooms on the way to ours while the guys told me about what Mr. Shaw said.

"He said it for sure was a demon?" I asked.

"Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors, Bec. If they want inside, they just go through the walls," Dean told me with a smug look that I assumed to mean I was an idiot.

I just frowned. "Oh yeah."

"So it's probably something else, something corporeal," Sam said as he wrapped an arm over my shoulder and squeezed me reassuringly. Corporeal? What the hell did that mean? Now I have to buy a dictionary? Ugh, I'll just Google it or something later on Sam's laptop. Freaking corporeal? Who uses words like that? The only other time I'd ever even _come across_ that word was in _Harry Potter_. He makes a corporeal Patronus, right? Now I gotta look that up too. Friggen Sam and his big words.

"Corporeal? Excuse me, professor," Dean bit back.

"Shut up. So what do _you_ think?" Sam pressed.

Dean thought about it for a second. "The claws, the speed that is moves… could be a skin walker…" I stopped listening. Did he just say skin walker? Oh hell no. Uh uh. No. I am not going against a skin walker. Those nasty pieces of disgrace touch you and BAM, they look like your clone! Now, I'm not an idiot, as you very well know, but it's _just_ a smidge hard to tell when you're talking to someone who isn't actually the someone you thought you were talking to. And the gross slime puddles they leave behind… Bleck. They're just nasty. Skin walkers need to die and become extinct like the Dodo bird. Both are useless. "…we can kill it." Damn right we're gonna kill it, we will not be saying "_vive les skin walkers_" any time soon.

* * *

Climbing out of the door my excellent twin held open for me, I smiled and basked in the warmth of the sunlight. Ah, fresh air. An amazing change of pace from the dingy motel room we'd been sleeping in with that horribly uncomfortable couch that I'd been forced to sleep on.

_"You're shortest, you get the couch," Dean said._

_"Screw that! You take the couch!" I bit._

_Dean flung himself onto the bed with such a force I thought that it would break beneath his massive… mass._

_"Listen up, little sis, you get the couch and the grown-ups get the beds. That's just how it works, got it?" he teased me as he crossed his arms behind his head and gave me that shit eating grin._

_I glared at him from where I dropped my bag on the floor in front of me. "I'm twenty-two, Dean. Pretty sure that makes me a real adult."_

_"You act like you're twelve."_

_"You act like you're seven!"_

_"I do not."_

_"You so do."_

_"Prove it!"_

_"SHUT UP!" Sam cut in as he walked out the bathroom. "You guys fight like a married couple."_

_I looked at Dean and I'm pretty positive our expressions matched. We both looked at Sam with complete disgust. "Ew, Sammy. Incest?" Dean inquired._

_"Way to cross the line, Sam. I mean, that's just wrong," I teased as I passed him and made my way to the shower._

_"Wait… I, but I didn't," Sam tried defending himself to Dean who only winked at him and then clicked on the television._

Still, thanks to this sunshine, I didn't see how my mood could go south. At least I _didn't_ until I saw Forest Ranger Khaki up ahead, scowling at us with his shot gun. Were tag-a-longs necessary? No. Did I agree with Sam who said multiple times that he thought they shouldn't join us on this case? With every fiber of my being. Did I think Dean was just trying to get chummy with Haley? Little bit. Was I walking forward and missing out on a conversation that I felt like I should be listening to? This is me we are talking about.

"That's right," Dean flashed his pearly whites towards Ranger Khaki.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley asked with a taken back, second guessing expression.

Dean and I scanned him up and down, taking in his outfit. Seemed fine to me and it really wasn't that far off from my jeans, tee shirt, and old sneakers. We were just walking through the woods right? It's not as though we were climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro and needed special clothes and gear. It's a hike Haley, as in go take one, in a different direction.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts," Dean teased. There's the brother I love. I grinned and sped up to him while nudging him with my shoulder before passing and catching up with Sam.

Ranger Khaki whose real name was actually Roy, got all snippy with Dean then. "What? You think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt."

Sam stopped and turned, and I bumped right into him, falling to the ground. "Brake lights are out, Sam," I told him as he helped me up with a smile and eye roll.

"Believe me, I know how dangerous this could get. We just wanna help her find her brother, that's all," Dean told Roy with truthfulness behind every word. He was really a good guy, my brother. Trying to help out as many people as he could while getting his mission accomplished; a real go-getter, and I was happy to call him my brother. Until he freaking tripped me as I was walking and then passed right by me with a smirk, leaving Sam to help me up again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

**This is the next couple parts of the episode, though it isn't the REST of the episode. I was typing it all up, and it was going to be WAY longer than I wanted it to be, so I am just breaking it down even further. I am really sorry if that makes you guys angry or anything, and if you really only want the chapters broken down in to halves or whatever, let me know. I'll work out the word count to try and to even them out next time.**

**Have I told you guys that I really love you for reading, reviewing, and adding this to your favorites and follows? Because I do, you have truly made my day, especially those who I have chatted a little bit with about the story thus far.**

**Now, please, read, review, enjoy! Thank you!**

**Disclaaaaima.**

* * *

When Sam helped me up the second time, he had to instantly wrap an arm around my waist and pull me into him so that my feet dangled off the ground a few inches up into the air. I heard the chuckle come from Dean and the steam that had been flowing from my ears came out hotter and with more force. I was actually surprised that Sam wasn't complaining of the pain from being burned, because I was pissed, but only in that "_you're so gonna die for that_" kind of way.

"Let go of me, Sam!" I fought against his arm as Roy, Haley, and Ben passed us.

"Are you going to go running after Dean?" his voice was laced with a smile.

I rolled my eyes as I continued to struggle. "Come on, Sam. I don't want to _hurt_ Dean. I just want to _hug_ him. That's all. Show him there's no bad blood." Man if Sam believed that he was a moron and Stanford was a waste. He lowered me so that my feet were touching the ground once more and I smirked. Dude was definitely a moron.

"And you're serious?" he asked still not letting go of me while his grip loosened quite a bit.

"Oh yeah, definitely! I am going to hug him with such force that it may actually look like a tackle from where you're standing, but don't be misled. It's really just a hug. A hug that involves my fingers around his throat," I growled as I tried to break free from Sam. I almost had it too except the giant has the world's longest arms and he wrapped one of them around me once more, pinning me to him and making my attack on Dean impossible.

"You guys coming!?" Dean yelled from where he stood at the head of the line about twenty-five yards or so ahead of us, right behind Roy.

I looked up to see Sam looking at me with a questioning gaze, silently asking if there was going to be a problem. Hanging my head in defeat, I just nodded, letting him know I wouldn't chase after Dean… Not now anyway. Dude was totally fair game the minute we got back to the motel though. And so was his beer. As in I'm going to drink it all, and then steal his bed. Yeah, that's right, try to fight me when I'm drunk, Dean. I'm like a spider monkey then, limbs flying all over and you never know what I'm gonna do. After Sam finally let me go, I just matched his pace, wanting nothing more than to strangle Dean but resisting the urge. That's right, self control people, Sam should be so proud. It was a silent walk as we made our way through the forest and me being with my brothers, even if one was a ginormous douche bag, made me feel a little less scared and way more secure. Like I said, they could definitely save me from a raccoon.

"You okay?" Sam's voice broke my thoughts as we continued on. We were deep in the forest now and the woodland creature noises were starting to make me jumpy. I know it sounds dumb, but I was starting to second guess my trust in Sam and Dean for a moment or two. Raccoon or not, they better be able to stop whatever it is that's out here. I hate not being able to see what is around me. Woodland animals are stealthy and masters of camouflage, making me way less happy. I was twisting and turning with every noise that wasn't made by our group and I was starting to feel a bit more pale and lightheaded.

I looked at him with confusion. Was he still on the Dean tripping me thing? I hoped so. I didn't want my fear to be too obvious. We really didn't need the extra problems with the case. I had to "_buck up and steer straight or I would just be causing problems_". Seeing the widening of his eyes, I told myself that he was definitely referring to the Dean thing. If he wasn't going to talk about me being scared, neither was I. I was going to definitely move on, buddy. Live in the moment! Especially when that moment of retaliation is later on tonight when we are all alone and there is no one to help you except Sam, and he'd better be on my side. It's amazing how a little sidetrack of getting back at your big brother can lighten your mood and cheer you up. "Yeah, Sam, nothing a little sibling bonding won't cure tonight."

"Dare I ask?"

"Only if you want to be able to answer the questions from the police," I winked to the answer of a smile. This was the friendship I missed from before he left. A friendship of jokes, laughter, understanding, ganging up on Dean, and seriousness; and now seemed like the perfect time to get serious. "Are _you_ okay, Sam?"

He didn't answer me right away. Instead he puffed out his cheeks and expelled the air, not once looking down at me. So I'm guessing no, he wasn't okay. "Yeah I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Becca, don't –" he sighed finally looking down at me, only to find that I was watching my footsteps and the trail ahead of us instead.

I continued to make my way down the path, pushing stray limbs and crap out of my way as we went. "It's cool, Sam. I get it. You don't want to talk about it. You would rather just pretend it didn't happen. Trust me, I get it. I was raised the same way you were. _But_, I did think that we were closer than that. We used to talk you know… before you left…" What was I doing? I was dwelling and focusing on something that was not necessarily important to the situation at hand. Oh, who was I kidding? Of course Sam's predicament was important to the situation at hand. Hell, it practically _was_ the real situation at hand. This Tommy thing was just a side bar of distraction. And if I was keeping my fear a secret, I really didn't see myself being able to drag his secret out of him. Man, talk about your pent up problems.

"I know, Becca. I just… Dad is going to have answers, and I need those answers. You don't know how much I want to find Dad. This case… it just doesn't seem important. It's like –" he stopped talking and looked up to where the line of hikers had stopped moving. Watching with him, I saw that Roy had grabbed Dean a bit forcefully.

Um, what was Ranger Khaki doing? You aren't me or Sam, you don't get to man handle our brother. Whoa, man handle? That sounded so wrong even in my own mind, but it was the only term that really seemed to make sense. So yeah, man handle without any gross connotation or anything. I tried stepping forward to slap Ranger Khaki's hand off of Dean when Sam held onto my shirt. He's right. Dean is a big boy. He could probably handle himself without me on this one.

"Whatchya doing, Roy?" Dean asked.

I stared as Roy grabbed a stick. Was he really going to beat Dean with a stick, right in front of me? The guy probably deserved it but that didn't matter. You can't just go around beating people with sticks, especially when I'm around. Only I can beat Dean with a stick. I fought forward as Sam pulled me back with a tug on my shirt. Roy then slammed the stick towards the ground and a large rush of air and snapping sound made me jump probably eighty feet into the air and backwards, where I accidentally stepped on Sam's foot.

"You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger," Roy sarcastically spoke before dropping his stick and moving forward.

Turning around to look at us, Dean caught my and Sam's gaze. "It's a bear trap," he muttered before turning back and probably trying to convince himself that he didn't almost just lose a limb.

I looked up at Sam. "Sorry about your foot." He just nodded and let go of me as we came to where Haley was hanging onto Dean's arm. Dean gave us that "_keep moving_" look and Sam did with no hesitation. I however hung back. I stopped beside Dean and opened my mouth to ask a question only for him to clear his throat and glance towards Sam. Sighing I stuffed my hands in my pocket and walked ahead, catching up with my twin. It was quiet for a few feet until I asked Sam, "Hey, you still got those M&M's I put in the duffle? I want some."

"Yeah, sure," he handed the duffle over to me and I stopped as I unzipped it and began searching through the weapons inside.

What the hell? Where was my candy? I swear I had a big ass bag of peanut M&M's in here just this morning. I was positive because Dean said I couldn't take them and I said he needed to shut up. That's when we got into a fight and he locked me out of the motel room and Sam had to let me in. "Hey, Sam, do you know –" I started asking as I heard the crumpling of a plastic bag behind me.

"And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" Dean asked with a smirk as I spun around to see my bag of M&M's in his hand.

That son of a… "You son of a –" Dean just gave me his shit eating grin as he held the bag out of my grasp and shoved his ape like hand in to the bag and put his germs all over my chocolate candies. I growled as he stuck some of the candy into his mouth and continued on before I ran after him and fought to try and get a hold of the bag.

* * *

God it felt like we'd been walking for _hours_. My feet hurt, I was thirsty, Dean had successfully and officially stolen my candy, and I was annoyed. I was sweaty and we were farther into the woods and I, being me, was covered in scratches from limbs and this was just _not_ how I pictured today going. "Dean, gimme a piggy back ride," I said walking up beside him.

"Yeah right," he grunted with a look that said "_God you're crazier than I thought_".

"Come on, just a quick short one. I won't ask again, promise," I begged. My cries for a ride were immediately useless because Roy stopped and Sam just continued walking on.

"This is it. Blackwater Ridge," Roy told me.

"What coordinates are we at?" Sam asked from where he stood just inside the clearing. Dean looked at me and cut his eyes over to where Sam was. Following him without a second thought, I walked ahead and stopped beside them in the clearing while Roy told us where we were.

Dean spoke quietly to us as I looked around. "You hear that?"

"Yeah. Not even crickets," Sam answered just as quietly but with an air of finality.

I searched the area a little more frantically at that statement. Holy, he was right. There was absolutely no sound in this area. My eyes widened and I clutched with both hands onto their forearms, holding myself with a death grip to both of them. There was a fog straight ahead and when I saw it, my mouth and throat went dry. "Cause this place isn't scary at all," I tried joking but it actually came out roughly and my voice cracked on a few of the words. I couldn't stop staring forward as Dean shifted and looked down at me. Sam shook my hand from his arm and looked down at me with that questioning look of not understanding, and Dean bumped me with his elbow, not shaking my hold from him.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I don't really know if I nodded in response or not. I think I told myself to but the fear inside of me may have prevented any movement from happening. I think either both of them or one of them at least was going to ask me something else but Roy cut in. "I'm gonna go take a look around."

Is this guy crazy? Was he unaware of the scary soul sucking fog that lingered just ahead of us, which I was still staring at and unable to blink away from? "You… You shouldn't go off by yourself," I tried to sound secure and like I knew what I was talking about, but instead it came out as unsure and full of fear. Well don't I just look like the big bad scary hiker. Awesome.

"That's sweet. Don't worry about me," Roy waved his gun in the air after pushing between me and Dean, breaking my hold on his arm. I stumbled into Sam, my eyes finally shifting from the fog to the guide Haley had hired. What a jerk! Dean placed a hand on my shoulder as he turned us around to face Ben and Haley who were coming up to where we were standing.

"All right, everybody stays together. Let's go," he told them.

My eyes widened and I spun to face him. "Are you serious?"

"You want that guy to just go alone, Becca?"

"Um, yes? Didn't you just see him shove past us? He's a jerk. Let him get eaten or whatever. I don't wanna go in the scary woods, Dean. You can't make me," I crossed my arms over my chest like a defiant two year old and stomped my foot. I was determined to go the _opposite_ direction, back towards the Impala where I knew it was safer and I had a less likely chance of being killed.

Dean rolled his eyes and motioned for Sam to continue with the group. "What if I give you a piggy back ride?"

"Don't you try buttering me up. I still don't want to go," I tried not to smile at the way he'd offered me the ride. That jackass knew how to make me feel better and not freak out, and he was doing it now. "Quick, if we grab Sam we can just book it back to the car!"

"Becca, we aren't leaving them stranded up here. You know we can't do that. What would Dad say, huh? Come on, we gotta kill what's ever out there. Are you really that scared right now?"

I sighed and shifted my weight. He was right. I was being a baby. We could definitely get rid of whatever was out there and then we could leave. Boom, bam, done. We just had to figure out what was going on as fast as freakishly possible. I gave in, "Fine. Let's go. But if another raccoon scares me, I'm going to scream, and you better kill it."

"A raccoon?"

"A raccoon."

* * *

Dean and I had finally caught up to Sam and the others, bickering along the entire walk. I knew it was his way of getting my mind off the scary woods that surrounded us and everything I was freaking out about, and I was unbelievably grateful. Right now I was staring at a rock, in fact we all were. It's amazing, nature that is. I'm standing in the woods, staring at a rock; come on, who doesn't have more interesting things to do? This was going to be the highlight of my day for sure. God, was this hike over yet?

"Haley! Over here!" Roy yelled from a distance.

We all instantly ran over to where his voice came and I gasped when we stopped. There were tents torn apart and there was blood everywhere. It was disgusting. The stuff from Tommy and the other guys' packs was all over the forest floor. This is why I hated being alone in the woods, you see that mess? That would definitely be what happened to me. I'm not exactly lucky when it comes to _anything_; misfortune follows me like a shadow. "Oh my God," Haley said when she saw the scene in front of us.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy told us with certainty while we continued to look around. This is what a grizzly does? Remind me to get rid of any Pooh Bear stuff I have lying around. Wait, is _Winnie the Pooh_ even a grizzly? I don't know but I'm not about to support something that does this.

"Tommy?" Haley was yelling as she discarded her bag onto the ground. Why was this chick yelling? Did she want to draw the thing _to _us? If she drew whatever it was to us I was going to karate chop her in the throat. "Tommy!" Good gravy.

"Sam, make her stop!" I whispered as I nudged him. He quickly moved to catch her.

He grabbed her and indicated for her to shut the hell up with a quiet "_shh_". But do you think that dumbass would listen? If you said yes, you were wrong. She continued to shout "Tommy!" as though Sam hadn't even just told her to shut her face.

"Shh-hh-hh!" Sam hissed as I growled "SHUT THE HELL UP!" in the loudest whisper I could manage.

"Why?!" she snapped. Listen lady, don't you snap on us! I moved to go stand beside her and Dean was fortunately nowhere near me as I strode right up to Sam and the loud ass person he was dealing with.

I stopped right in front of her and clenched my fists. I wanted to punch her but I restrained myself, again with the self control I'm sure my brothers thought I didn't have. "Because if you draw that thing over here –"

"Something might still be out there," Sam cut me off.

"Sam!" I heard Dean yell. I'm dealing with idiots. I swear. Here I am with Sam trying to get this chick to shut up and Dean's over there yelling like some sort of clueless freak. Following my giant brother over to where Dean was, I rolled my eyes as he snapped a stick, and he crouched down next to Dean while I leaned over both of them to get a good look at what they were talking about. "The bodies were dragged from the campsite, but here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird." They stood up and we made our back to camp while Dean made me so much happier with his next words. "I'll tell you what, that's no skin walker or black dog."

My heart swelled with those words. "_That's no skin walker_…" Ah, Dean, my hero. "Thank God, I hate skin walkers," I smiled as we entered the campsite.

Haley was staring at a cell phone and crying. I didn't see clearly what was wrong with the phone, but from the looks of everything else, it was probably destroyed and covered in blood. My throat had a lump grow inside of it, not out of anger or sadness, but out of… what was it, compassion? I felt bad for her. I don't know what I'd do if that was Dean or Sam's cell phone sitting in my hand… I'd probably be crying too. Dean left Sam and I, and went to kneel next to her and calm her down. I didn't hear what he said because Sam was looking down at me making sure I was alright, which surprisingly, I was a lot less scared and feeling genuinely better. I had plastered a smile on my face and told him that in fact, I was quite alright for the time being.

"HELP! HELP!" Well that was short lived. Now I had jumped and was staring ahead into the woods. A man was shouting, and it was loud, and I was shaking. Definitely hate the woods. I never ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER want to be in the woods again. We ran towards the shouter. That's right we were _running towards_ the guy. Were we crazy!? Clearly! Now, when I say we were running, what I really mean is that they all started running, and I froze like the rock I had been staring at earlier. I was completely immobile until Sam's giant paw wrapped around my wrist and dragged me after him. "HELP! SOMEBODY!" Oh this was _not_ getting better. We were standing in some dense area of woods and there was not a single injured person among us, well, besides my mental freaking out that I was enduring.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" Haley asked. No one answered her. Of course it seemed like it was coming from there! Why else were we standing here! It was silent as we stood there. There was not a single sound coming from anywhere, and I started to tremble uncontrollably.

"Sam," I whispered shaking in his hold.

"Everybody back to camp," he ordered squeezing my wrist.

He did not have to tell me twice. I yanked my wrist from his hold and sprinted back towards the camp, making it back before anyone else, and skidding to a stop. Our bags were all gone, and I mean _gone_, not that we misplaced them or anything, the shit was gone. "Everything's gone," I panted as Sam came to a stop next to me.

"So much for my GPS and satellite phone," Roy complained. Um, handle it Roy. Our _weapons_ are gone you horrible, khaki wearing, no good –.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley cut off my thoughts.

I walked over to Dean as Sam answered her questions and Roy asked him some stupid question. "Dean, what is this? There's no way that thing was a grizzly and you said it can't be a skin walker, which trust me I am _beyond _grateful. But you said it can't be a black dog either… So what is it? I've never dealt with anything like this… At least, I don't think I have."

Dean looked like he was about to respond when Sam was suddenly beside us. "I need to speak to you guys. In private." Great.

Wandering a bit away from the group, but enough that I had the clearing in my eyesight the entire time, making me feel a smidge better as I journeyed into the forest, Sam stopped us and turned. "Good. Let me see Dad's journal."

I stared in amazement as Dean pulled it out of his jacket and handed it over. How big were his jacket pockets? I pulled my own coat away from me and looked at the inside. My pockets weren't big enough to carry that big ass book. What are his like "_Barney_'s Magic Bag" or something? Sam was flipping through the book when he suddenly stopped and pointed to a page with a drawing of a tall man on it and tons of notes written in Dad's tiny writing and more symbols on the page beside it. "All right, check it out."

"Oh come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west." A wendigo?

"Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice," Sam interjected.

He was right. This totally had wendigo written all over it. "Great," I sighed as I threw my head back and stared at canopy before looking him in the eyes and then towards the page once more. I watched as Dean took out his pistol. "And that, is useless," I told him as he gave me a "_ya think_" look and tight jaw.

Sam shoved the journal back into Dean's hands and stalked away. Quickly turning and lacing his voice with anger and attitude he got right in our ears. "We gotta get these people to safety," he demanded.

"Dude, what do we do now?"

"Come on," Dean sighed as we turned and made our way back to the camp site.

"…you're gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now," I heard Sam say as Dean and I stepped back into the circle of trees.

Roy was being snarky again and speaking with a tone I didn't like him using toward my brother. "One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders."

I stepped forward with a raised finger and closed the distance between Roy and me in as few steps as my legs allowed. "Listen here you –"

"Relax," Dean cut over me.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you."

The next thing I know, Roy is _right in Sam's face_. Or, as in it as he could be seeing as Sam is damn near twenty feet tall. At least, nine inches _seems_ like twenty feet when you have to stare up at it.

"You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night." That son of a bitch. Who was he to make comments like that? He was a jackass and I planned on letting him know. How dare he… Sam didn't… my mother… Gah!

I spun Roy around so he was facing down at me. I had the more terrorizing glare I think I ever heard on my face and I was wishing Roy a horrific and painful death as I clutched onto his shirt and growled in his face. "Oh yeah!? Well it's a _damn near_ perfect hunter. It's SMARTER than you and it's gonna hunt you down and _eat you alive_ unless we get your STUPID SORRY ASS OUT OF HERE! Personally though? I think we should just tie you to a tree and friggen leave you as bait."

He was glaring right back at me and I saw nothing but red as he started to laugh. This son of a bitch started to laugh in my face. "You know you're crazy, right?"

"Yeah?" I heard Sam ask as Roy turned to face him once more. "You ever hunt a wen-" Dean suddenly moved in front of me, blocking the raised fist I had intended to connect with Roy skull and he shoved me down to the ground before shoving Sam away from Roy.

Roy continued to laugh as Dean got Sam away from Roy and turned to face me with a large finger pointed in my face. "Chill out," he ordered. Haley called out Roy's name to make him stop, but we all know how douche bags act, don't we. I picked myself up off the ground and wiped the dirt of my pants, a deadly scowl never leaving my face or the direction of Roy.

"Stop. Stop it. Everybody just stop," Haley commanded. I wanted to tell her to shut up so bad but a look from Dean instead made me silent. "Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him."

No one dared make a single sound. I wanted to scream in her face, tell her she was being stupid and needed to go home and let me and my brothers do the job we had to do to possibly save her own brother. But no, instead I walked over by Sam and we scowled together to the group around us. I was pissed, and so was Sam. He was right when he said they shouldn't have come.

"It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves." I know Dean was talking to everyone, but I felt like the words were directed towards Sam and me. Almost like they were telling us what we needed to hear as some sort of order that we couldn't fight. I groaned as Haley asked how we were going to keep from being killed during the night.

* * *

It was dark out and I was sitting next to Ben as the fire was blazing in front of me. I was still cold as I shook from fear. I hate the woods. I hate being in the woods. I hate being in the woods at night when I can't tell if some sort of scary animal or now, wendigo, was behind me and going to eat me. I wasn't paying any attention to anything anyone was saying as I glared at the fire, my grudge against Roy still burning as hot as the fire in front of me. Dean and Sam were off doing whatever the hell they was doing, and Ben was telling me about something that he seemed really interested in while Roy was hopefully dying and Haley poked the fire.

I nodded every now and then and pulled Dean's jacket around me tighter as I continued to pretend to listen to whatever Ben was saying. I would kill for that uncomfortable motel couch right now. I saw Dean sit down near the fire, not paying attention to what he was saying because I turned to Ben and said "Really, so when that happens, is that good or bad?" I watched as Dean got up a few moments later and wandered over to Sam. I didn't even have the energy or desire to go follow after him and listen. No, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Ha, sleep, like that would happen when I was sitting out here in the woods. I was jumpier than ever and each pop of wood in the fire had me twitching like mad. Then there was a twig snap in the distance. And there was no way that this twig was from a raccoon. It was a big snap, like friggen loud and thick branched. I don't know how to tell it was from a thick branch, but I just knew. I rose to my feet, holding my arms around me tightly.

"HELP ME! PLEASE!" It was that same voice from earlier, and at least now I knew it was the wendigo. God, I couldn't stop shaking. Dean and Sam emerged from the edge of the campsite and I quickly made my way between them, Dean pointing his gun towards the distance. "HELP!" I was visibly trembling now and was panting. If they ever make me hang out in the woods again with a wendigo I will kill them both. I promise you that. Screw being afraid of the woods, I was friggen terrified of wendigos now.

Sam's flashlight danced around the woods. And goose bumps were covering every single part of my skin. I clutched onto the back of Dean and a squeak of fear passed my lips as leaves began to move around the circle and growling was heard. "He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put," his words were meant to be reassuring and I felt his hand wrap around me and land on my back, and I sighed because I felt like an idiot.

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy's voice pierced through the air and my grip tightened along with my teeth that were now clenched.

"If you don't shut the –" I growled before more yelling cut me off.

"HELP! HELP ME!" There was a loud, low growl as more leaves began to move and I no longer felt like an idiot. This thing was terrifying. I was not stupid for hating the woods. Nope, definitely a good, logical, normal fear to have. It was a scream mixed with a growl, like something or someone had been attacked. I swallowed, hating this even more.

I heard Haley behind me, telling Ben that it would be okay and he would be alright. Right after that beautiful, reassuring moment, a large snarl was heard and Haley screamed before Sam announced that it was here. Way to kill any hope Ben may have had. There was a screech and leaves moved, all us spinning – not on my own choice, I was still hanging on to Dean, so if he moved, I moved – and I saw it. I friggen saw the wendigo run past the edge of the circle. It was terrifying and I screamed. Roy shot at it with his gun and I jumped at the crack of the bullet leaving the barrel. Dean patted my back and I let go of him, stepping back for a moment. The wendigo growled and moved around the circle again, causing Roy to shoot again. There was a loud screech of what sounded like pain and Roy exclaimed that he'd gotten it, and went running into the woods after it. "ROY, NO! Roy!" Dean shouted as Roy passed the edge of the circle and took after the screeching. "Don't move!" He turned back and yelled to Haley, Ben, and me as he and Sam went after Roy.

I stepped back and threw my arms up shielding Haley and Ben from the path that the others had just traveled down. Let's be honest, if that thing comes, yeah, I'm gonna scream and probably cry and there may even be pants getting peed in, but I'm not gonna let it just attack poor Ben and his sister. I was still shaking as I tried to calm them down, though they seemed way more at ease then I did. It was really only a few minutes, but I swear a year passed before Dean and Sam finally returned to the campsite, and Roy was not with them. I know I wanted him to die, but I didn't actually want him to die. If he did, I was going to blame myself. I knew I would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four.**

**Here is the rest of the _Wendigo_ episode, guys! I thank you all for reading and I really hope you have enjoyed reading all the chapters. Man, these things take forever to write, but it's worth it and so much fun.**

**Okay, have fun guys. This one is a bit shorter, but I think that's okay with how it ended... Maybe I'll add more. Be sure to review guys, so I know what you think and what I should do make it to your liking.**

**Read, review, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer on the show, and the song [_Fly by Night -_ Rush], and the movies I took lines from [_The Breakfast Club_; _Anger Management_].**

* * *

I'd found it practically impossible to sleep last night. After Dean and Sam told me that they hadn't found Roy, I'd mentally shut down, convinced that I had been the reason he died. I just lied there, all night, staring at the fire, no matter how many times Dean or Sam tried to talk to me. I know it was stupid that I thought Roy died because I wanted him to, I mean, obviously I was aware that it was a wendigo that probably killed him and not some stupid thought from me. I was wide awake, still, watching as the fire died to a low smoky ash and the blue black sky full of stars faded to a morning gray that mocked my sour mood. I thought I'd heard signs of the wendigo all night long but who knows if that was real or not… I could have just been just imagining things… I probably was imagining things. It was officially day and everyone else was moving around and active. They'd slept in tents, and although I did think that the nylon would be a sure fire protective element between me and the crazy ass monster, I couldn't move off the leaf covered ground. Dean came over and tapped the sole of my foot with his boot. He could kick all he wanted, I didn't want to move. I was just gonna lay here until they were done with the hunt. I was a horrible person for wishing that on Roy, and I didn't want to do this any more.

"Becs, get up."

"Go away."

"Get up."

"Go. Away."

I felt him kick my shoe once again... and again... and now even harder. I wouldn't get up, no, actually I _couldn't_ get up. I just wanted to lay here and die. Well, not actually die. I just wanted to sulk in the anger I had grown for myself from wishing someone dead. I had wished a lot of people dead in my life time... believe me when I say the number is actually right up there. It's actually surprising considering my lovable demeanor and accepting personality; but I had wished people dead, including my brothers and a few times even my father, but no one had actually ever possibly died afterwards. I felt Dean's shadow create a small shift of coolness over my face as he sat down on the ground beside me. God, he wouldn't quit. Couldn't he see I was lying here, hating myself? Was I not allowed to be a girl for like, two days with the emotions, and thoughts, and crazy? Apparently not. Leave it to him to not allow anyone a moment of self despise.

"Are you going to get up?" he sighed.

"Dean, I wanted him to die," I choked from where I kept staring at the stones that circled the fire pit. Was this lump from anger or sadness? I couldn't even tell anymore! That's how upset and confused I was right now.

I heard him groan. Yep, he just sat down and started a bonding moment that he couldn't have occur while being silent with a simple hand squeeze. He was gonna have to talk to me and he knew it. I'd told him to go away, and he pushed. Now he was going to have to deal with it. "We don't even know if he's dead."

"We don't know that he's alive either," I grumbled as I sat up and faced him while staring at my shoes.

"Becca, come on. Quit this. Let's get a move on, kill this son of a bitch, and get out of here. If Roy's dead it's because he was dumb enough to go running after that thing when we told him to stay inside the circle," Dean was standing up now and glaring down at me.

I allowed him to help me up and looked at him with low eyes. He was right. I was being stupid and I needed to move past it. No dwelling. Closing my eyes, I pushed every one of those horrible thoughts from my mind. Goosfraba. Goosfraba. There. That was better. I just reminded myself that I was here with both my brothers. That was pretty spectacular in itself. They were good guys with big hearts and smartass attitudes, three things that I adored about them and aimed to be... but as a chick, and not a guy. I sighed and hugged him which he actually returned, with genuine feeling. Oh, my little Dean was growing up so well! I smiled and pulled back and looked at him. "All right, let's get this bitch."

He grinned at me and then caused me to roll my eyes. "If you messed up my jacket while lying like a log all night, I'll feed you to the wendigo myself."

Sam came over and broke the moment as I shrugged the jacket off and gave it back to Dean. "Hey. So we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch." We are for sure related.

"Well, hell, you know we're in," Dean joked as he wrapped a thick arm around my head and began rubbing his knuckles across the top of my skull. God, who even gives noogies anymore! What a child.

Pulling myself from his grasp, I stumbled backwards as Sam ignored us and continued his rundown of things while showing Ben and Haley the drawing and notes in Dad's journal. "Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means "evil that devours"."

"They're hundreds of years old. Each one was –" Dean bent over with a gruff sound coming out of him as I'd run up and jumped on his back, making him catch me unless he wanted to fall on the ground. Either way, I didn't really see a downside to my fully not thought out plan.

"Was once a man," I continued from where I was holding onto Dean for dear life as he tried to shake me from his back. "Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman, or a miner… or a hunter…" Haley looked at me and then turned to Sam. "Or Roy," I whispered to Dean as I climbed off his back, receiving a shove to the side.

"How's a man turn into one of those things?" Haley pressed.

Dean started picking up our crap off the ground and I helped him. "Well, it's always the same -" We took turns saying sentences, making not only Haley and Ben look at us questioningly, but also Sam. I couldn't help but grin when we were finished.

"During some harsh winters a guy finds himself starving -"

"Cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive -"

"Eating other members of his tribe or camp; tasty, right?" I finished up.

Ben looked at me and a light bulb went off. "Like the Donner Party." Kudos, Ben. It's exactly like the Donner Party. And if we didn't friggen get rid of it, we'd be the next Donner Party… or the Winchester-Collins Party I guess. I will not be getting eaten though, so if we get stranded out here I'm gonna have to learn how to hunt a deer or something.

Sam shook his head as he worked past Dean and me acting like Thing One and Thing Two and told Ben, "Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality..." Holy crap, now I understand vampires so much more. That explanation makes so much sense that I never have to research vampires again. Thank you, college boy, seriously. I'm not even being sarcastic right now, you have no idea. It's like I just had some sort epiphany.

"If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry," Dean continued. Dude, seriously, why didn't I connect this with vampires before?

"So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?" Haley asked. Well, there's the clincher and total party downer. This was not going to be a fun part to talk about. I could already feel the cold seeping through me as I knew we were going to have to tell her some pretty gruesome things.

"You're not gonna like it," Dean told her as he glanced at me where I was throwing the rest of the trash into the ashes of the fire. Dean and I both looked to Sam who looked back with that face that said "_I don't know, dude_".

"Tell me," Haley said when we'd all turned to look at her one more.

I sighed after catching a look from Dean. I'm a girl, she's a girl, maybe I can break it down in sympathetic tones that will make a little less hard of an impact when I tell her that basically her brother is hanging in a self made meat freezer. I could actually see the words "_self made meat freezer_" coming out of Dean's mouth if I allowed him to tell her the facts. "Here's the deal. A wendigo knows how to last long winters without food, because of the whole stranded and having to forge for whatever is around you thing, you know? Make sense? Well, it hibernates for years at a time, but when it's _awake_ it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, it…" this was way harder than I anticipated. "It stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and SAFE. We just gotta track it back there." I hoped she got that Tommy would be okay, if he was alive. Judging from her face though, maybe I should have just let Dean tell the story. She didn't look very reassured or happy.

"And then how do we stop it?"

I looked over at Dean. How were we gonna stop it? I didn't have fire. "Well, guns are useless, so are knives. Basically," he grinned and held up a can of lighter fluid, beer bottle, and white cloth, "we gotta torch the sucker." Fantastic, I'm related to _MacGyver_.

* * *

I was lined up behind the others, following as Dean and his homemade hand grenade thing were leading us through the woods. I was breathing deeply and trying to tell myself that it would be okay. We were going to kill the wendigo and then it wouldn't be scary any more. Sam was behind me and I heard him chuckle. "What?" I asked as we pushed forward.

"Did you get your candy back from Dean?" he asked.

I froze. Damn it! I had the stupid bag within reach all night and this morning and I didn't even think to grab it! Why wouldn't Sam say something earlier? I swear that he is automatically double teaming with Dean against me all the friggen time. I growled and pushed forward with heavier footsteps and a scowl as a louder laugh came from behind me. "Shut up, Sam," I warned only to get another laugh in my ear.

Time passed and it was getting dark out again, totally to my dismay, and eventually Sam had passed by us all and was leading the way, apparently impatient at our slow pace. "Dean," I heard him say. I didn't bother running up there, but I saw Dean quickly head over to where Sam was standing. I stopped behind Ben and was just about to move over to where they were to see whatever it was they were looking at when growling sounded. Effing wendigos, man. I moved quickly and stood in the middle of the haphazard circle that the rest of them were creating, and I spun around looking for any kind of sign of a movement in the rustling trees. Friggen I saw it move again and I jumped and screamed, grabbing Sam's arm and pointing to where the grey body was passing us by. Holy shit, I am done camping forever. The growling didn't stop and I thought I was hearing a high pitched whistle, yell, squeely, whatever the hell it was, it was annoying and I was growing with fear. Why did I let Dean talk me out of leaving the magic circle of safety? He made me sit in the car at Shaw's house, yet he was dragging me through the forest of doom without a single problem.

And to top that off, I started hearing drips. Drips! How do you describe drips other than calling it drips? I whipped my head around and then I found dark red spots appearing on the shoulder of Haley's jacket. "Oh my god," I whispered as I smacked Dean's chest with the back of my hand. Haley clearly heard and felt it too because she looked over to her shoulder, then up in the air, and then screamed. Oh, it was a completely unnecessary scream, don't worry. I mean, ROY'S BODY ONLY FELL FROM THE TREE AND TO THE GROUND AT MY FEET. That's right people. Roy did die, and his bloody corpse was currently lying in front of me and I freaked the hell out. Dean flew over to check Roy's pulse while Sam and Ben rushed to Haley's side.

"His neck's broke," Dean told us as Sam helped Haley up and more growling came. It sounded closer and I looked at Dean. I don't know what told me to run, but I did. I sprinted out of there like it was nobody's business and I heard "…run, run, go, go, go!" being yelled from quite a distance behind me. I don't know what happened next but I slipped behind a tree and started panting heavily until I heard Sam start yelling out for Dean. Looking behind me, there was no one. I couldn't even see Sam, and I panicked. While I started yelling out Sam's name, I screamed when I felt a pressure on my shoulder. I spun quickly and punched, colliding my fist with Sam's shoulder.

"Becca, you okay?" Sam asked as he looked down at me, rubbing his shoulder.

I sighed and nodded my head, shaking out my hand. God, what was this guy, straight steel? "Where're Dean and Haley?" I asked as I looked past Sam and saw only Ben. I saw Ben's face fall and Sam shook his head as he panted, we were both still out of breath. That thing had Dean? Good gravy could today get worse? I racked my brain. There was no sound surrounding us, and I nodded my head and pushed past Sam and Ben. "All right, let's move. We gotta get Dean."

* * *

Walking forward, I was ahead of Sam and the surge of power and determination completely voided out any fear I'd had earlier. Dean was gone and I was going to get him back. I understood Haley's stubbornness from before, but if I'm honest with ya, I was pissed that Ben was here. I felt like he was just slowing us down. If it had just been Sam and me, we'd have been moving faster, there wouldn't have been so much talking, and we'd both be on a friggen mission to save that brother of ours.

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" I heard Ben ask. I couldn't help but scoff.

"Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off," Sam told him. Sure, Sam. That's why. It had nothing to do with Roy being a horrible person and complete jackass. I was continuing to move when Ben's voice stopped me.

"They went this way," I spun and looked at Ben. Running forward, I snatched at Ben's hand and pulled the M&M up to my face and stared at it. Damn it, Dean. You are a genius. I was so happy I'd brought those M&M's and that he'd stolen them. If we find him and get him out of this alive, he can have all of my M&M's for the rest of both of our lives. I just really, really hoped that he would be there to steal my M&M's. Dropping the candy into Sam's giant claw of a hand, I smiled.

Sam stared at it and laughed when he met my face. "It's better than breadcrumbs."

I watched the chocolate fall from his hand and land to the ground and turned back around, leading the way after the candies. The last candy was outside of a mine entrance that had those typical signs that should read "_we know you aren't going to follow the orders on this sign, so we are just going to waste the ink in telling you to not enter and that it's dangerous to your health_" like every mine and cave and practically anything in any adventure movie ever has. I looked at Sam and Ben before they passed me and stepped into the mine. I double checked the area and followed them in, sighing at situation. Dean better be in here.

Sam and I had flashlights shining ahead of us, showing the way through the mine when growling echoed off the walls. Clicking our lights off, we slammed ourselves to the wall. I slapped my hand to my mouth as Sam covered Ben's when the wendigo started coming towards us. I was dead, this is it. I was going to die in this cave thing in Colorado searching for my brother. Was this really the way it was supposed to go down? I didn't even have guns blazing; whether I'm good at blazing guns or not is not the point. I should at least be fighting, right? Sighing into my hand, I relaxed a bit when the wendigo turned the corner and we pushed on down the tunnel. I stopped behind Sam and Ben when the floor creaked. Wait, isn't this floor supposed to be secure? I'm gonna go with no, it wasn't because Sam and Ben crashed through the floor and landed somewhere below us.

"Sam!" I cried through the hole as I bent down and shined my flashlight onto them and saw bones lying scattered all over. I froze. Watching Sam and Ben shift below in my light, I called his name again, drawing his face up towards the ceiling of the area he was in. "Sam, you guys okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, we're good," he struggled.

I clicked off my light and shoved it away, hanging my legs over the edge of the hole. "Catch me," I told him, pushing myself forward slightly.

"Becca, no, just wait," he started. His head suddenly whipped over. "Dean!"

"Damn it, Sam, if you don't friggen catch me, I'll jump down and probably break a leg. You aren't going to leave me stranded up here while Dean –" my voice was probably way louder than it should have been and was echoing off the walls while I became angrier with my brother. I was cut off by a shushing sound and Sam's annoyed face and outstretched arms. Smirking, I slid off the edge of the hole and landed in Sam's arms. "My hero," I batted my eyes at him and scowled when he dropped me to the bones below.

I growled and picked myself up, seeing Dean and Haley hanging by their wrists. "Dean!" I rushed forward, followed by Sam. I came to see Ben already in front of Haley. Sam was next to me as I shook Dean with as much strength as I could.

"Dean!" He said loudly into his ear. Dean's eyes sprang open. Oh thank God. "Dean! Hey, you okay?"

I frowned as Dean winced. He is supposed to be the strong one, not the damsel. I should be the damsel, not this guy. I had to get him out of here. "Yeah," he got out. Ben was beside us, attempting to wake up Haley as Sam cut Dean from his restraints. I caught Dean before he fell, and that was quite a mistake. This guy was huge, and I was not as strong as him. Helping set Dean down on the floor as Sam moved over and released Haley, I couldn't help but continue to frown when Dean kept making pained noises and grimacing.

"You sure you're all right?" I asked quietly, kneeling down in front of him and searching his face.

"Yeah. Yep. Where is he?" Dean groaned up, trying to keep his eyes open. Such a liar. He was trying to be tough, and I was getting pissed. I wasn't pissed at him, no, not really. I was pissed at the situation and I could feel the anger rising and the tears forming. Perfect. Just what I needed right now. "Come on, Becs, don't cry. Not now."

I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. "Hush your face. I'm not crying. I'm angry," I told him as Sam came over to answer Dean's question.

"He's gone for now," I heard him say from where he towered over us.

I helped Dean free from his ropes around his wrists and when he nodded that it was okay, I helped him stand and leaned him against me. Sam moved over to where Haley was standing and I saw she was by Tommy. At least, I thought it was Tommy, he was dirty and beat up pretty bad and it was kind of hard to tell exactly who it was under the grime.

Dean left me and started going through the packs at our feet, pulling out some flare guns. Shoving one into my hand, he held two in his hands. "Check it out," he said as I inspected my flare gun.

"Flare guns," Sam smiled as we both spoke at the same time. "Those'll work." I couldn't help but roll my eyes when Dean twirled the guns.

After we'd freed Tommy and got everything we needed, Haley and Ben supported Tommy who was limping, and Dean and Sam lead us down a tunnel, and myself bringing up the rear. I stopped and spun around, pointing my flare gun ahead of me when I heard growling.

"Looks like someone's home for supper," Dean joked.

"We'll never outrun it," Haley said from where she stood, still supporting her brother. Optimism, Haley, try it. I'm the only one who gets to be a pessimist today. Catching eyes with Dean, I nodded. We needed to split up. I knew it, he knew it, and Sam better have known it.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked looking at Sam.

Sam checked all of us before turning back to face Dean. "Yeah, I think so."

Good. We were all on the same page. I walked past the Collins and stood next to Dean who turned to face them. "All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam and Becca. They're gonna get you out of here." Uh, no. Dean isn't allowed to go off alone, last time he wasn't by me or Sam, he disappeared. I wasn't allowing that this time. We were supposed to stick together. I was sticking together.

"I'm going with you, Dean," I told him with a stern look.

"No, Becs, just -" he rolled his eyes and looked at Sam before meeting my eyes.

"No. I'm going with you. Now you either accept the fact or you get pissed because I follow you and we get into a big ole fight. Now shape up and ship out," I said pushing past him and pointing down the tunnel with my flare gun, not waiting for a response. Shape up and ship out? God, who was I, my father?

I was only a few steps down the tunnel when Dean walked past me briskly and started yelling. "CHOW TIME, YOU FREAKY BASTARD! YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, BRING IT ON, BABY, I'M FEELING GOOD!" Who is this guy!? I followed after him as he turned and went down the tunnel.

"Dean, if you start shouting "_I wanna be an Air Force Ranger_" we're gonna have to talk later," I told him while laughing.

"Shut up," he chortled before turning back and winking at me before taking off again. "I HOPE YOU'RE HUNGRY YOU FREAK…" he started yelling as we hurried along. It was a bit later and Dean and I hadn't heard growling or anything, and he was clutching his side when he slowed down his pace.

I was instantly at his side. "Dean, you okay?"

"HEY! HEY, YOU WANT SOME WHITE MEAT, BITCH! I'M RIGHT HERE!" he shouted, making me jump. "Yeah, Becs, I'm good," he said with a smile.

Rolling my eyes, I sped past him when we heard growling from further down the tunnel, Dean right on my tail. Just as we were passing the turn to a connecting tunnel, I saw a shadow pass by. I put my hand out and stopped Dean who almost ran right past me. He eyed me, not understanding, until I pointed to the shadow that was just now blending in with the distant darkness. I heard the growl, much louder and we quickly made our way towards where I heard Sam's shot echoing off walls. Dean and I stood next to each other as the wendigo slowly approached the people on the other side of him. One of those people was Sam, and I was not going to let that monster hurt my other brother. This was it, it was about to go down.

"HEY!" Dean and I shouted simultaneously, causing the wendigo to turn and look at us. It screamed, well, growled I guess, but either way it was angry at us. Perfect. It better be pissed, if it was pissed, I wouldn't feel as bad. This might actually be fun. I smirked and pressed my index finger against the trigger of the flare gun and watched as it soared into the wendigo's chest along with Dean's and then went up in flames. I, of course, flinched from the small amount of kick that went no further than my wrist. I don't think I'd ever really get used to firing a weapon.

"Not bad, huh?" Dean asked a grinning Sam.

"Man, that was AWESOME!" I shouted, hugging Dean out of glee, only to pull back when he winced beneath my grip. I looked up with a sheepish grin, but it spread when I saw his eyes twinkling and that shit eating grin on his face once more. Okay, so maybe I would get used to the firing of guns, especially if that adrenaline rush came back and I knew I killed that stupid monster that kept me awake all night. Yeah, maybe I would be the hunter my dad trained me to be after all.

* * *

"Dude, I'm _fine_. Would you let me go already?" I was trying to slip off the edge of the ambulance and slink away towards my brothers but this paramedic just wouldn't let me go.

"Miss, I have to check your wounds," he told me with a hard look.

I shoved his hand that held an incoming cotton ball covered in ointment away. "Listen, guy, I have no wounds." I held my arms up and slowly spun in a circle. "See? Right as rain, good as gold, awesome as can be. Can I please go now?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue in his cheek. Eyeing me up and down, a smirk spread across his face. Is he, is he trying to get at me with a smolder or something? Back off, Jack. Now is not our moment. I scoffed and pushed past him, making sure to bump him with my shoulder and send a wink and middle finger his way before turning around and striding over to Dean, a little extra swing in my hips and pep in my step.

"…cheapen the moment?" I heard Haley ask as I appeared and propped myself against the hood of the Impala and leaned against Dean.

"Dean? Of course," I grinned as he gave her a "_duh_" filled "Yeah."

The paramedic I'd just been dealing with reappeared. I rolled my eyes at him as he eyed me with that ugly smirk before turning to Haley. "You riding with your brother?"

"Yeah," she nodded to him.

I watched as Ben and Sam came over and Haley told Ben it was time for them to go. After Sam and Ben nodded a silent good bye to each other, I smiled at Ben and then Haley kissed Dean's cheek. I allowed that moment to linger for two seconds before I made retching noises next to Dean, only for him slap the side of my leg, causing me to stop and grin even more. I watched as Ben and Haley took off for the ambulance after thanking Sam and me, and was squished between my brothers when Sam sat down on the other side of me.

"Man, I hate camping," Dean broke the silence that had overcome us as the ambulance closed up and drove away.

"Me too," Sam agreed. I didn't say anything as I watched the ambulance turn the corner, but I felt their eyes on me.

"Oh, I don't know," I teased them. "I think that was a blast. We should do that every weekend."

Dean stood up off of the hood of the Impala and raised a brow. "You like camping?"

"God, no," I scoffed as I shook my head at him. "I never want to go in the woods again. Ever."

"Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?" Dean asked after shooting me an eye roll and pulled me off of the hood and into another noogie.

"Yeah, I know. But in the meantime? I'm driving," Sam smirked. Yeah, nice try, like Dean was really gonna… Hold the phone! Did Dean just throw him the keys? Did the world just end? Am I dead? Are pigs flying around me?

I gawked as they both walked around the car and stood at the doors. "You coming?" Dean asked me.

"Did you just? Is he really gonna? What the? Are you? HOW COME I CAN'T EVER DRIVE THE CAR?" I yelled as I stared at Dean.

"Dude, let's just leave her here," Dean sighed before he slid into the passenger seat.

Sam laughed and slid in next to him, starting the vehicle. What the hell just happened? I could hear the music through the closed windows and slowly made my way into the back of the Impala. Buckling up I began singing with the words of the song, still completely confused as to what I had just witnessed. "MY SHIP ISN'T COMING AND I JUST CAN'T PRETEND!"

"BECCA, IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP RIGHT NOW, I'M GOING TO DROP YOU OFF ON THE SIDE OF THE HIGHWAY!" Dean yelled. Nope, the world hadn't ended. Things were still exactly the same as before. Yes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five.**

**So many chapters in one day! Wowza. Those views just keep climbing and it just makes me so much happier! Thank you for reading my story! That's super nice of each of you! Now if you could just make those review numbers climb up too, I'd be even happier. I want to shoot an extra thanks to those that have reviewed and PMed me. You deserve cookies, so if you have cookies in your house, go grab like, five, and eat them.**

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**Disclaimer. Song: _Round and Round_ - Ratt.**

* * *

We'd pulled off to this restaurant and I was just finishing up my breakfast while Dean was looking at a newspaper. He circled something and didn't notice the uplifted brow and curious face I was giving him. He circled another section of the paper, then another. "Whaff 'r ew zewing?" I forced through a mouth of pancake and sausage.

Dean raised his eyes and looked from my plate to my stuffed face. What? I was hungry and this was like one of the first real meals I'd had since we left Colorado. Don't judge me just because you eat faster than anything I've ever seen in all my life. Dean eats so much and so fast that I don't actually think I could come up with an animal to compare it to. "You ever gonna actually pretend you're a girl there, Bec?"

I glared at him, sipping on the coffee that was sitting in front of me. I swallowed my food and went to grab the paper out of his site when he slapped my hand. "I _said_ what are you doing?"

He circled another section in the paper, and it looked like a picture was in it this time. I leaned across the table, only for Dean to lift the paper up and hold it in front of him so I couldn't see anything except the furniture ad on the back. The waitress came up to our table, for like, the eighth time since we'd gotten there. Clearly she was into me. I think her name was Wilma? Willow? Ah, Wendy. Her name was Wendy, I figured out after checking her name tag once more. "Can I get you anything else?" Um, you can get your boobs out of my face. This chick's shirt was so low and her boobs were so pushed up that they rivaled mine. And here she had the nerve to lean across the table and stick them in Dean's face.

Dean glanced up at her as though he hadn't figured out she was standing there. He eyed her chest for a moment and then smiled at her while he had the pen sticking from between his teeth. Oh yeah, I'm the disgrace for talking through food. Dean looked like a friggen… a friggen… well you know, and he looked like that right now. Suddenly, Sam was back and sitting down beside me. "Just the check, please," he told Wendy without a second glance. Good boy, Sam. That's the way a _human _acts.

"Okay," she smiled. Did she just seem upset? Trust me, Wendy you do _not_ want to get involved with either of these crazy fools. One would probably cry before, during, and after; the other would probably cause you to run screaming for the door. Three guesses as to who was who. Ha. I smirked as I considered the thoughts running through my head and Wendy regretting any decision she'd made with either of them when the paper fell back to the table and Dean hung his head before eyeing Sam with his un-approving and disappointed eyes.

"You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while," Dean told him. Did he just turn and stare at her ass? He pointed to Wendy whose butt was barely covered by her shorts and looked back to Sam. "That's fun."

I snorted and sipped my coffee. That's fun? That's a skank, and Dean would have treated her like a one night booty call. I mean, that's all she really would have been. Let's not deny it now. All anyone we met ever was, was a one night anything. There were no attachments, at least not many. I'd maybe grown attached to a few people myself. Or as close as I could have with Dean and my dad always bursting through the door with crazy eyes and murder on the mind when they'd find random cars sitting outside the motel room… "You never let _me_ have fun," I told Dean, eyeing Wendy and then him. He was such a guy.

"You don't deserve fun," he smiled as he handed the newspaper over to Sam. I stuck my tongue out at him and leaned over towards Sam, looking at the circles Dean had created. "Here, take a look at this. I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walked into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago." "_Walked into the lake and didn't walk out"_? Did he not hear the words that came through his mouth sometimes? People don't just walk into and through lakes, Dean. They swim. She _dove _into the lake and never came out. Sure, yes, I know you technically walk _into_ the lake to get to farther water, but the way he said it, it was like she just walked through the threshold or something. Either way he's wrong, and I'm right.

"A funeral?" Sam asked.

Dean seemed surprised by that fact too. "Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever." Seemed legit to me. I'd heard of people doing that before, when like, people went missing for years, or they were horribly murdered. Had neither of them really ever heard of the concept of an empty casket burial? Where'd they live? Under rocks or something?

"Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, guys. Other people just stop looking for them."

"Okay, yeah, maybe, Sam… But don't you think that people can only look so much before they can't anymore? It's gotta be torturous to know that you may never see someone again. And what if someone really did just disappear? Should families not "bury" the people they love? That's kind a bold statement to make, dude," I told him as I stacked the final remaining pieces of my breakfast onto my fork. And yeah, I _did_ tell him all of that. I'm all about closure. I even made sure I had closure when the buffoon left. I stabbed his pillow thirty-seven times before Dean finally got the knife out of my hand and screamed at me. Then I drank a ton of alcohol and closed the night with a fight against some blonde a bar. That night was all about closure, and the following morning was all about closure too. Closure between me and the toilet in the motel room while Dean held my hair and brought me water… after offering me part of his eggs and hash browns.

Sam just eyed me while not saying anything. Rustling the paper, he just stared at it harder, his jaw tightening and loosing with the words he kept to himself. "I'm just saying is all," he finally got out.

"Something you want to say to me?" Dean cut across the table. Did I miss something? There was an assumption to his voice and his eyes went cold as he looked at Sam.

"The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day," Sam answered him. Goodie. I was wondering when the next fight was going to happen. What was it, like, ten hours ago? The last fight had been about Dean playing pool for money instead of moving on to the next town like Sam wanted.

_"Seriously, Dean? Can't we just keep moving and find Dad?" Sam pushed from where we sat at the bar, Dean and I holding onto and sipping from the bottles in front of us while Sam's sat there, untouched._

_I grinned as Dean caught my eyes and rolled his own before bringing the bottle to his lips once more. He set the bottle down and turned to face Sam. "Sammy, we can't just go running around the country in search of Dad if we don't have any money."_

_Sam glared at Dean, turning to face him head on, still not even acknowledging there was a beer in front of him. "Dean. We don't need money with the credit cards you've got, right? So let's just go. Let's just go find Dad."_

_I stepped around Dean as he just groaned and faced the other way, clearly fed up with the situation. "Sam, we don't even know where Dad is. How are we supposed to go and find him if we don't know where to look?"_

_"So you're siding with him, again?"_

_"What? No, I don't side with people, and you know that." Okay, that was a lie. I totally sided with people, all the time. If I thought someone was right, I was gonna be right with them. I sighed and looked down before looking up at Sam once more. "Fine, yes I do. But no, I'm not siding with him. It just so happens that he's right and you're also right!" I had to reach forward and pull him back to face me once more since he was turning away. Come on, no more starting problems and not finishing them, guys! I groaned and forced them both to face each other. If they were gonna be pissed at one another they better be able to look their sibling in the eyes. I was damned if I agreed to be riding in a car with two giants who weren't on speaking terms and made everything ten times more tense and ridiculously annoying. "Okay, look! We're gonna find Dad, Sam, don't you give me that look! We will. Just let us settle down for a second, okay? I just shot a wendigo, can I revel in that for a second? Let's just play some pool, get a few bucks, and we can go from there. We aren't giving up on Dad, all right?"_

_I couldn't see Dean's face, but I knew he was staring at Sam over my head, and I felt a drip of condensation fall from his bottle and land on my head. "That sound good to you?" Dean growled to the guy in front of him._

_Sam didn't answer. Instead he bounced on his heel before grabbing his beer and bringing it to his lips. "Yeah," he growled back, a distance in his voice. He drank from the bottle with anger before stalking off and finding a table to play at._

Dean was full blown glaring at Sam now. Tension was rising and I sipped from my coffee as I waited for it to unfold. It was stupid to get involved now. I didn't need either of them mad at me after Sam didn't talk to us for the rest of the night after I'd told him how I felt. I'm pretty sure he would say I stabbed him in the back and blah, blah, blah, bitch, moan, complain, whine, whine, whine, whine, grow a pair. I was getting sick of the conflict of interest. If Sam didn't think that Dean and I wanted to find Dad just as much as he did, he was stupid. Completely stupid. Dean and I wanted to find Dad too; we just knew that it wasn't as easy as Sam was making it seem to be.

"Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?" Dean pressed the fight onward.

"I don't know. Something. Anything," Sam responded. You don't know. You don't know yet you expect us to just act on it? Get real Sam, you know things don't work that way. I rolled my eyes and threw my head forward onto my folded arms and groaned against the table. This repeat of "_let's find Dad_", "_I gotta find Dad_", "_Where's Dad_?" was getting old and I didn't really think I could listen to it anymore.

Dean must have been feeling the same way from what I heard next. I smiled to myself. Thank gravy I wasn't alone. "You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?" His tone was bitter, but the way he said it made me raise my head. Don't pretend I'm not here. If you're gonna fight about something that I'm involved in, involve me. Don't just cast me aside and do your brother bicker thing, and then snap on me for taking sides. If you're gonna make me take sides, include me in your side.

"We," I told Dean as I glared at him.

"What?"

"We. You don't think _we_ wanna find Dad as much as you do."

Dean rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out to me before looking at Sam completely exasperated. "You don't think _we_ wanna find Dad as much as you do?"

Sam made sure to look at Dean and me both before he answered. "Yeah, I know you both do, it's just -"

"We're the ones that've been with him every single day for the past four years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We _will find_ Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?"

I don't know why Sam was rolling his eyes. Dean was right, and the way he'd said that it seemed more like it was a fact that something was going to happening instead of it being an option. I argued with Dean no problem; it's pretty much guaranteed that we'll argue. We're too alike and being siblings doesn't help, but when he gave an order like that, no matter what it was, I basically did it. Sure, I might _alter_ what it is I do to complete that order, but the outstanding premise of it is followed. I saw Wendy walk by and shoot Dean a smile causing Sam and I to roll our eyes.

"All right, Lake Manitoc…" Dean didn't even seem to hear him. "HEY!" we both shouted to him, causing him to spin and face us with a fallen face.

"Huh?" I just pushed off the table to use the bathroom as Sam asked how far it was to our destination.

* * *

"Round and round! With love we'll find a way, just give it time," we were just inside of Lake Manitoc and I couldn't help but sing along with Sam _and_ Dean to the music. This was a great moment and I swear I saw Dean smiling slightly in the rearview. He'd deny that later though if I asked him, and I knew that. "ROUND AND ROUND!" we shouted as the engine stopped and Dean got out.

"We here?" I asked him as I shut the door behind me.

He straightened out his jacket and cleared his throat before heading towards the house in front of us. "That and I couldn't take your screeching any longer."

I followed him up the steps of the front porch Sam right behind us. "Screw you, I have a beautiful voice."

"Yeah, it sounds just like a deaf parrot that has turrets but can't form words," Sam said from behind me on the stairs.

"Shut up! I do not!" I couldn't help but grin as I shoved him slightly and he fell back onto the step below him. He shoved me back, and a mini wrestling match ensued. I was laughing when Dean knocked on the door and told us to cool it and act our age. As I attempted to regain full composure over myself as a man answered the door. He looked to be about my age or a bit older. I smiled largely, not even registering the look he was giving me or anything. I was genuinely happy from the moment I'd just had with my brothers because for that small sliver of my life, things had been back to normal… well, normal for us I guess. Either way it was awesome, and I was relishing in it.

Dean turned to face him. "Will Carlton?"

"Yeah, that's right," he skeptically spoke while eying us all and then Dean once more.

"I'm Agent Ford. These are Agents Hamill and Fisher." Did he just? Yeah… he did. He just referenced _Star Wars_. I didn't know whether to laugh, roll my eyes, scoff, or what but I just sort of ended up gaping at him like freak. "We're with the US Wildlife Service," he flashed an ID in Will's view. Yeah, we're with the Wildlife Service, this guy just didn't know how "wild" the things we dealt with got, and it really was a friggen service that we provided. If people knew the amount of times we'd actually saved them, they'd probably be way more grateful, and they'd probably pay us. I think we should start asking for money…

Will had led us down and around towards the lake that had consumed his sister while I saw a man sitting out in the distance, staring at it. I assumed that it was Will's father. "She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down."

I looked up at him with my large, emerald eyes and a wrinkled brow. This story had been horrible, I loved swimming, and now a lake was just swallowing people without leaving any trace of anything? That sucked beyond major anything. "And you're sure she didn't just… drown?" I really hoped that maybe she had just drowned. Yeah, whatever, that sounds bad, but I didn't want to think a lake actually just took a body, or bodies if you count all the others that went missing. It was easier to say someone drowned than actually try and figure out what it was that supernatural and going on.

"Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer," Will told me. Awesome. "She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as she was in her own bathtub." Um, obviously she wasn't, Will.

"So no splashing? No signs of distress?" Sam asked him.

"No, that's what I'm telling you.

"Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape break the surface?" Sam continued. What like a shark? This isn't _Jaws_, Sam, and this is fresh water. I didn't go to Stanford, but I know that sharks live in salt water… except for those weird ones that swam up the Mississippi or whatever. You hear about those? Yeah! Sharks like swam up the river or whatever. How crazy is that? Watch out people, I guess you never really know what is out there.

Will seemed tired and annoyed. "_No_. Again, she was really far out there."

Dean cut in before Sam could ask any more questions and get any farther in Will's face. "You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?" Like the swamp thing? What were these guys on today? It was like they were grasping for some sort of answer to what happened to Sophie. There is no swamp thing, Dean. Try again.

Will was taken aback by Dean's assumption. "No… never. Why? Why, what do you think is out there?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Dean nodded to Will as he and Sam thanked him and then headed for the car. I smiled at Will and then looked past him. I felt so bad for his father that just sat there, staring at the water. He was too far away to know if he was crying or anything, but part of me just _knew_ he was out there shedding tears. I stopped Will from walking past me.

"Hey, what about your father?" I asked him quietly.

"Becca," I heard Sam say as a warning behind me. Calm down, Sam. I didn't ask for the guy's whole life story or something. Geez. I just wanted to ask him some questions. He might know something, right? The guy was grieving; maybe he was recalling something that could help us.

I ignored Sam and shrugged as though his hand had been on my shoulder. "Can I… Do you think, I mean, if you think he's up to it that is, could I maybe talk to him?"

Will turned and looked at his father, a sigh escaping his lips. His eyes lowered and I knew he was going to say that I couldn't before he opened his mouth. That's cool, I understood. "Look, if you don't mind, I mean… He didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot."

I smiled up at him and laid my small hand on his upper arm, squeezing it gently. His watery eyes looked down at me and I just squeezed his arm harder. "No worries, Will. It's fine. We understand. Thanks." He smiled kindly and I dropped my hand, turning and walking past Sam and Dean to go back to the Impala.

My good mood was officially shot and now I was depressed. I wanted to get this story over with, so many people were already sad and that sight of the dad just sitting there staring at the water? I thought of my own dad. Maybe he was sitting somewhere staring off into space thinking of me and the guys. Yeah, right. I'm sure that wasn't happening, but I still couldn't shake my father's fallen, tired, and worn face. I'd always disliked watching him come in with that face, the one where he'd just finished a case and walked in the motel door to see his expecting children staring up at him. He was now unable to focus on anything else but the children he'd had to protect and raise. I suddenly felt guilty for even being alive. This sucked!

I closed the door as I slid onto the light colored seat, angry tears forming. No, no, no, no, no, NO! I wouldn't cry. I sniffed and heard the guys open their doors and the car shook as they got in and Dean started the car. Sam turned to face me.

"You okay?" he looked worried.

I looked at him, a full smile on my face. "'Course, Sam! So… now where are we gonna go?" As soon as he faced forward and settled into his seat, I looked out of my window and my face fell. Suddenly I wanted my dad like I used to when I was a little kid… We needed to figure this case out so that we could find him, just like Sam said we needed to… I had the urge to run right to him and wrap my arms around him and smell that leather jacket, musk, and gun powder that consumed him. I needed my dad…

* * *

Sam and Dean were sitting in the sheriff's office and I was in the lobby. I didn't really feel like talking about this thing in the lake right now. I really just wanted a moment to myself to dwell. That's right, I said it! I'm gonna dwell! Lucky for me my brothers _were_ out of the room making the dwell thing less of an issue. I was flipping through some fishing magazine not paying attention to anything but the pictures. Man some fish were ugly, like so ugly that I want you to picture me saying that like the hyenas from _The Lion King_. You know, "_uuuuuuugly_". Just like that. You ever seen an angler fish? Look one up, they're nasty as ever! Gross, man, just nasty! I closed the magazine and tossed it onto the table next to me. I glanced around the lobby. This place was smaller than the one I was in that day I'd run into Dean, and that place had been _small._ I whipped my head over when a woman walked into the room with a young kid.

"Hello," she smiled warmly.

"Hi," I smiled back.

I watched as she set up the boy at a table with some paper and crayons. He didn't say anything, just immediately started drawing. "Is it okay if I just leave him here for a moment?"

I just eyed them, could I really say no? I don't see how, I mean, I don't even live in this town, how am I gonna tell someone they couldn't do what they wanted. "Uh, sure," I smiled at the boy and he just eyed me before he turned back to his drawings. The lady rubbed his head before tapping on the office door and then going in. I watched the kid. "Uh… so, um, what are you drawing?" He ignored me. Okay, um, I guess he doesn't like to talk to strangers. Smart kid. I don't even know why I was trying to get on this kid's good side. I didn't know him and he definitely knew nothing about me. I stood up and walked over to the table he was at. "I like your picture," he was drawing a bright red bike. The picture was so big that it practically consumed the entire page. He didn't say anything. He just continued to draw on the paper, coloring the bike more and more. I crouched down beside him and picked up a crayon. "Can I color with you?" Great! I just scared the kid! He jumped up and ran to the back of his mother's legs. I sure hope this lady didn't think I was some weirdo or something, cause I'm not. Promise. She came back with him to the table, where I just backed away and smiled at her. "I didn't -"

"No, I know," she smiled again. Handing him a crayon, she set him up to finish his coloring. "He doesn't talk much."

Dean and Sam entered the room, followed by the sheriff. "Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?"

What? I pointed out the motel when we'd passed it earlier and then again when we passed it on our way to the sheriff. He knew where that motel was. "Dean, the –"

"Quiet!" he shot at me. "I'm sorry. Agent Fisher doesn't consider others sometimes. You were saying?" he looked to the woman and smiled.

"The Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south," she instructed him.

I looked at Sam as Dean turned and pointed through the window. "Two… Would you mind showing us?" Shooting Sam a look, I frowned. Dean just never quit, did he? Good gravy. This lady seemed to think he was as big a fool as I did 'cause she laughed at him. Bahaha. She laughed right in his face.

"You want me to walk you two blocks?" Um, no. We are more than capable. What Dean wants is for you to walk him to your house, and down the hall, to your bedroom, and close the door. That's what Dean wants. I can find the motel on my own, trust me. I'm actually quite capable of figuring out directions if I need to be.

"Not if it's any trouble," Dean smirked. Gag me. Please, lady, say that it's too much trouble for you to walk us.

"I'm headed that way anyway." Of course you are. They always are. It's amazing how many women just happen to be heading the same direction of my brothers when they needed assistance. Not that I would ever know if a guy was ever heading my way. Ha, I can't get the question out of my mouth before Dean usually cuts someone off, letting them know that we have it handled or can figure it out on our own.

I tugged on Sam's jacket sleeve, bringing his eyes to mine. "Um, I know where the motel is so… I'm gonna go."

"You want me to come? Andrea is going to be taking us there in a second, Becca."

I looked over and saw the woman speaking to the sheriff and then lean down and kiss the boy's head. Sighing, I knew there would be no way for me to go alone now without someone freaking out about it later and asking me a ton of questions that would only make me angry. "Oh? She's taking us now? Okay, I thought it was gonna be a while, of course I'll wait."

I was following aimlessly but close enough behind Sam that he didn't ask if I was alright. Dean was _still_ flirting with Andrea and I smiled at the scoffs that Sam kept making towards Dean's bogus attempts. I wasn't paying too much attention to what they were talking about. I like to be clueless when my brother tries to work his way with a chick. It makes me feel a little more ignorant which makes me feel a whole lot better. Way better. You wanna know how much better, go ask your brother to hit on some lady right in front of you as if you aren't there and then blatantly take her back to the motel you share with him, grinning and winking at you as he walks out the door of the bar you're now alone in. Yeah, that's always fun. Especially when he leans over the table and tosses a twenty your way; "_Hey I'll text you when it's cool to come to the motel, sound good_?" Yep, those are the moments any girl wants… Totally.

"Thanks," I heard Sam choke out as I walked right into the back of him.

"Brake lights, Sam," I smiled as I stepped around him.

Andrea turned from Sam to face Dean. "Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line," she told him with a coy smile before walking away. "Enjoy your stay!" she hollered over her shoulder. Did she just? I think she did, yes, she did just completely diss Dean in front of us. Oh this moment was golden, beyond golden. I was totally going to remember this moment for the rest of my life. Hahahaha. Dean's face was priceless, too! I wish you could have seen it. It fell with such shock that I couldn't help but literally laugh out loud. Oh, happy, happy day. Mood instantly lifted.

Sam laughed along with me before putting a straight face on. ""_Kids are the best_"? You don't even like kids."

"I love kids," Dean argued.

"Name three children that you even know," Sam told him. We both waited as Dean thought about it. What a weirdo. Sam just waved him off and I laughed even harder.

"Way to go, Dean," I told him as I followed Sam into the motel. Dean stood there, scratching his head. I tripped, walking into the motel door, and broke into a fit when he shouted "_I'm thinking_". God he's such a loser! I tried to stop laughing long enough for the lady at the desk to give keys to Sam, and then followed him into the room, throwing myself on the bed Sam hadn't chosen.

Dean walked in the door and slammed it shut behind him. "I know kids, man."

"Right, and I know Obi Wan. I am Agent Fisher after all," I poked. I don't know how he did it so quick, but I was no longer resting my head on the pillow, no, now I was laying on the floor between the beds, struggling to get my overgrown ape brother off of me as he tried to smother me with the pillow I'd been using.

I'd successfully gotten Dean off of me. If you ask him what happened, he'll just tell you he felt bad and didn't want to hurt me with all his Superman strength so he let me go or some equally stupid crap like that. If you ask Sam, he'll say he didn't see anything. Truth is I'm friggen amazing and got away because I'm like a ninja. I know I said I wasn't a ninja, but that was just then. The abilities kick in sometimes. I'm sure you're a ninja sometimes too, so don't hate on me.

I was flipping through a book about an hour later, lying on the bed opposite Dean as he was going through his clothes. Sam was clicking away on his laptop when he straightened up and looked at us.

"So there's the three drowning victims this year," Sam said. He was going over all the cases, trying to figure out some sort of similarity between all the deaths. Say what you want, but there is always something connecting them, and Sam was good at finding just what it was that usually connected them.

"Any before that?" I flipped the page in my book not really comprehending what I was reading or all of what he was saying.

"Uh, yeah." Don't say "_uh, yeah_" like that. I'm not a child. Use your manners! "Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there it's picking up its pace."

Dean tossed something on the bed as I clipped my book shut and stretched out my limbs and flipped over, now facing the ceiling. "So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?" Dean asked skeptically. Again with the swamp thing. There are no swamp things, Dean!

"This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me," Sam told him. Well, that's because it's not real. Duh. Like Dean really thought there was some sort of lake monster.

"Why?" Dean really thought there was some sort of lake monster. I, for the moment, cannot claim him to be my brother. He was not thinking, clearly the thoughts of Andrea had removed any sense he had. If he was smart, then he'd know. There are no swamp things!

I leaned my head off the edge of the bed and watched their upside down forms. Dean was reading over Sam's shoulder, both of them staring intently at the screen in front of them. "Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing. Whatever is out there, no one's living to talk about it." I rolled my eyes at them.

"Wait," Dean instructed pointing to the screen. I rolled over and walked to where they were crowded, staring at section of the article he was pointing his sausage finger to. "Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?"

"Maybe he's one of Roseanne's kids," I suggested with a smirk. I read the article over Sam's head. "Look, it says that Christopher Barr was the victim in May."

Sam clicked the link and the headline read "_LOCAL MAN IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT_" and the picture took forever to load. Well, at least I knew now that the motel had crap Wi-Fi. When the picture did finally fully show up, it was of a police officer and the little boy from the lobby at the station earlier. "Oh. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. _Two hours_ before the kid got rescued." Wow… that's really… depressing. That poor little boy… poor Andrea… Man. That's even worse that the story about that Sophie girl just disappearing. I walked away when Sam enlarged the photo and scratched his head. "Maybe we have an eyewitness after all."

Dean didn't move. "No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over." Tell me about it. I could not even imagine that happening to me. I sat down on one of the beds and watched Dean. His face was grim and he looked older than he should have. That's right… he was four when Mom died. I don't know if he saw her die like _die,_ die, but I know he saw the fire in the house. This case was hitting a bit too close to home for me. I grabbed the thick book from beside my feet and forced myself to read it and not focus on the case for a while as the guys continued to discuss their findings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six. **

**Sorry I didn't get a chapter up yesterday, I worked on this one, but I just didn't have enough time to get it all done and up. No worries. I'm starting work on the next part immediately after posting this one. Thank you to everyone for reading. I'm glad you all like it so much... I assume you do anyway, the views have remained fairly consistent with each chapter, but I can really only tell if you review, so review, please.**

**I apologize for any grammatical or sentence errors. When I transfer some of the things from my system onto here, an automatic correction thing sometimes happens and some things are fixed in what my computer has deemed a sentence error. But my computer is stupid for thinking on its own like that. So, please bear with me. I try really hard to make sure it's smooth reading for you.**

**Thanks to the people that have reviewed and PMed me, I appreciate it a lot. Also, thanks to those who have continued to add this to their favorites and follows. You make my drive to get chapters out increase that much more.**

**Disclaimer. Read, review, enjoy.**

* * *

Following my brothers down the hill that led to the center of the park, I tried to do a flat tire on Dean. And no, it wasn't one of those weird gross flat tire things. I was trying to step on the back of his boot and make it come off. You know, a _real_ flat tire, that isn't pertaining to a vehicle. Anyway, Sam was watching me struggle and just laughed as he walked beside me, both of us just behind the gorilla that was walking way too fast for me to be able to actually catch up with. I was biting my lower lip when I'd attempted the process of trying to catch the back of his boot with my own ratty sneaker to pull it down, but he moved way too quick and I accidentally stomped in a puddle. This was seriously just becoming too much work. I was about to just give up and tackle him because at this point, I was that frustrated with him for not allowing my prank to fully transpire. That's it, I couldn't take it anymore. I growled and narrowed my eyes, crouching down into my "pre-puma leap" stance and sucked in the air I knew would be necessary to fly that far and that quickly through the park's atmosphere to make contact with the mammoth that was clueless. Just as I bent my knees, Sam grabbed my shoulder. I turned my face to see what he wanted, a scowl fully taking over. I didn't understand, but he placed his index finger to his lips and smiled at me before moving forward. Oh, I didn't know _what_ was going to happen next, but I was _definitely_ not going to miss whatever it was. Sam quickly started striding up behind Dean, a completely fake innocent look on his face as he whistled – 'cause yeah, _that's_ covert and not suspicious – and then connected his palm with the back of Dean's head, causing him to freeze. Yes! This was my moment! I ran up and stomped my foot on the back of his boot. He stumbled forward, my shoe locking his to the ground, and his foot popped out, landing in the muddy puddle beside him. Ah, success! I want to thank the crap shoelace that Dean had accidentally pulled too tight and snapped for allowing me to have the moment, I owed it so much. I quickly dodged his swing and made my way to Sam who was practically doubled over in laughter. Smacking my palm against his own, I felt beyond victorious. This may be a moment that I add into Dad's journal on my own just because it's as rare and epic as some of the things in there.

It was like a bull was running right for Sam and I, like, the snorting and everything. Thankfully, we were right behind the bench Andrea was on, and Sam called out to her before Dean could do something in retaliation for his muddy sock. "Can we join you?" Sam's words were quick and his eyes were wide, Andrea need to be our salvation at this point. If she didn't get me out of this one, I would so flat tire her too. And this time it would pertain to a vehicle. Her vehicle's tire versus my switch blade, hmm, I wonder who'd win.

"I'm here with my son," she told us. Your kid doesn't talk. And he's not even over here. I, along with Dean, looked over to see Lucas sitting on a totally different bench, still coloring.

"Oh. Mind if I say hi?" I heard Dean ask her before he just started for the other bench. Still trying to prove you're good with kids, Dean? I rolled my eyes and just watched as he stopped next to the bench and knelt down. I didn't move, just kept watching him, it was actually really heartwarming to see him like that. Damn, he was totally going to win this "good with kids" argument wasn't he?

"Tell your friend this whole _Jerry Maguire _thing is not gonna work on me," I heard Andrea say from behind me. _Jerry Maguire_? Is this lady serious right now? Dean was not like _Jerry Maguire_, I mean, not that I know of anyway.

Turning to face her I landed my eyes on Sam briefly and got a nod. Sticking my thumb over my shoulder, I smiled at her. "I'm gonna go apologize to Lucas, if that's all right? I feel bad about what happened yesterday, when I scared him. Is that okay?" Man, I said that so smoothly that there was not a single chance of her denying me the chance to apologize to her kid. I smiled as she nodded to me and Sam gave me the look that urged me on my way. Spinning in the muddy grass, I squished my way over to Lucas and Dean.

"… I'm not so bad myself," I heard Dean tell Lucas with a bit of a chuckle. He was now sitting beside the kid, dragging a crayon over the paper. What the heck! Lucas freaked when I said I wanted to draw with him, and he let Dean grab some paper? How could this kid like Dean more than me? Dean was Dean, and I'm freaking great with kids. This was definitely not fair. "You know, I'm thinking you can hear me, you just don't want to talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something." Oh God. I froze, still about a foot from Lucas and Dean. I felt my face form into a huge frown, and blinked quickly when Dean's eyes found mine and softened instantly. His mouth twitched downward and he just moved the conversation along, which he was right to do. We couldn't afford to freak Lucas out anymore than he already was. I just didn't know if I was totally ready to have a moment here in the park, with my brother, while standing next to a kid who the last time I'd seen, freaked out and ran. "Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or uh… or believe you. I want you to know that I will. We both will," he pointed to me. Well, there was no turning back to Sam and Andrea now. I sighed as Lucas looked up to Dean and then met my eyes with curiosity.

I slapped a smile to my face and continued forward. Crouching down so that I was eye level with Lucas, I looked at his drawing before I started to speak, hoping that this was the direction Dean had been going in. "You don't even have to say anything if you don't want to, Lucas," I whispered with a grin. I wanted him to know that he didn't have to feel uncomfortable around me, especially if he was the only one with any kind of answer.

"Yeah, not a word. Hey, you could even draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake." Lucas hadn't even acknowledged us. He'd gone back to drawing and just acted like we weren't even there. "Okay, no problem. This is for you." I brought myself up and started rubbing on my knees, looking to see the picture Dean had been working on. Friggen stick figures? Way to go, Monet. I smirked at him as he started pointing out the figures. "This is my family. That's my dad. That's… that's my, my mom," he seemed to choke on the words, and a lump formed in my suddenly dry throat, "That's my geek brother, there's my dog-faced sister, and that's me." He really drew a dog face on the stick that he'd pointed to as representing me. I don't look like a dog! Come on! I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled at the smirk he shot my way. I'd almost forgotten about Lucas, but the small scratching of the wax against the paper brought me to look back down at him. "All right, so I'm a sucky artist," dude, you got that right. "I'll see you around, Lucas," he dropped the drawing next to Lucas and got up before waiting for me.

I stared at the picture Lucas was still working on, as though we still weren't standing there, before I stuck my hands in my pockets and puffed out air. "Hey, Lucas, before I leave you to keep drawing, I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you yesterday. I really do like your drawings." Nothing, he didn't even pause his scribbles to let me know that he'd heard what I said. "Okay… Um, bye then," I looked at Dean and matched his pace as we stared back towards the bench that Sam and Andrea were at.

"You like my drawing?" he toyed.

"I do not have a dog face," I whispered angrily.

"Well, when I look at you, all I can picture is _Lassie_," he retaliated with.

"Dean, _Lassie_ was a _boy_! I do not –" I was cut off as we'd approached Andrea and Sam whose eyes were glued to us.

Andrea was standing, looking sad as she talked to Sam. "Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident."

"Yeah, we heard. Sorry," Dean told her as we stopped beside them. Looking at us and nodding she turned her head, I chewed on my lip as Sam began speaking to her. Lucas didn't even talk to her? I could not see that being possible. Yeah, maybe we weren't the most vocal of families when it came to talking about things, but not talking to anyone? That's rough. Even when I held in as much as I possibly could, I exploded. Every time, and granted it usually came out in some sort of drunken rage that led to me attacking the brother that tried to drag me away from the argument I'd try starting and objects I'd begun throwing so that all of us wouldn't be possibly killed by our father if he came walking through the door… Poor Sam, I'd actually bit him once. Anyway, I more than likely would black out and then wake up, a toilet hopefully nearby, with a blanket and pillow somewhere in the vicinity. From what I was very often told, Sam would try to calm me down until Dean got fed up, then we'd fight, like FIGHT, and he'd shove me in an ice cold shower, then somewhere down the line I'd get a blanket and pillow chucked at my head as tears streamed down my face. Who wants to break tradition by not talking? Come on now.

Sam's voice cut through my thoughts. "What are the doctors saying?"

"That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress." Huh, I wonder what would make Dean stop talking… Did Dean stop talking after that night with Mom? I chanced a glance towards his face. It was hard, and tight. He seemed to just nod and his eyes that had been soft just kind of hardened and went cold. He looked like our dad, and that kind of made my heart beat a little faster. Not in a happy way or anything, but in a feared way. Dean was twenty-six; he didn't need to be like Dad. Not now! He was supposed to be giving me noogies, stealing my food, playing bloody knuckles with Sam. He was too old for his own good. I didn't like that. I would have to make it my mission to decrease his mental age. Mission: Dean the Youth is hereby in motion.

"That can't be easy. For either of you," I cut in, making my presence pertinent and cutting myself back from all of the side bar thoughts, trying to focus on the moment in front of me.

"We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…"

We all kind of shifted uncomfortably at that. My thoughts started reeling through my mind once more before Dean spoke. "Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with." No. Kids don't surprise me, _you_ surprise me. You scare me and surprise me, all at the same time.

"You know, he used to have such a life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish, hey sweetie." Hey sweetie? What? Oh! Lucas was standing between Dean and me. Man, that kid was super quiet. I hadn't even heard him approaching. I am super loud when I walk, as I've been told a lot. I smiled down at him and he just looked at me with those round eyes and sullen face before he turned and handed a picture to Dean. What the hell. I'm cool too, Lucas! And I apologized!

"Thanks. Thanks, Lucas," Dean told him. I grabbed his arm that held the picture higher than my vision allowed me to see, and pulled it down so I could see a house. That house looked familiar… Where had I seen that house? I looked towards Sam and he was locking eyes with Dean, both of them had hard looks on their faces.

* * *

I was lying on the couch I'd been using as a bed when Sam came into the door. He walked in and had this attitude about him before he slammed the door. "So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie." Good gravy. Were they really still considering something like Nessie or the swamp thing? Am I the only smart kid in the family? No more science fiction movies for them. None. I was cutting them off.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked from where he'd been sitting on the bed, aiming a rubber band at me. And he thought I didn't know. I'm on to you, Dean Winchester. I know all your moves. I just so happened to have a magazine sitting behind the cushion of this couch – a perfect, shiny paged shield to use against rubber bands. Sam sat down next to Dean, who didn't even bother trying to hide the rubber band, he just readjusted it on his fingers.

"I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead." What?

I sat up and faced them. "Did he drown?" I asked Sam with a wrinkle in my brow.

"Yep. In the sink." In the sink? What did this guy shrink down to the size of a Smurf after we'd met him? That guy was bigger than me! Could someone really even drown in the sink? I didn't see this making any sense at all. I couldn't even picture it happening. To me, when you drown, you're like fully body under water, thrashing around trying to get air. Unless Will was the size of a baby, I didn't see how he could drown.

"What the hell? So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else," Dean announced.

For the love of Pete. "THE SWAMP THING'S NOT REAL! Stop trying to make it sound like there is some creepy fish thing out there that is just eating people. Don't you think that they would have found it when they combed the lake all those times? Give it up! It's not the swamp thing. It's not Nessie. I can't believe you seriously considered it being –" Dean had snapped the rubber band towards me. I dove to the side of the couch, completely forgetting about the magazine. The band caught the edge of my arm when I'd dove, and it friggen stung. I growled as I sat up, rubbing the spot on my arm that was now turning bright pink against the rest of my tanned skin. "You mother fu –"

"But then what is it?" Sam cut over my insult, drawing Dean's face from my glare to Sam's questioning look.

"I don't know. Water wraith, maybe?" No. "Some kind of demon?" Err. Try again. "I mean, something that controls water… water that comes from the same source." Oh, oh, was that a light bulb? I think it was. A plus, Dean.

I stared at them. Clearly the water all stemmed from the lake. Whatever was controlling the lake water was pissed. I'm guessing it's a spirit. I'd told them that on the way to the park too, but noooooo. What does Becca know?

_Staring through the window, I watched the sun bounce off the small ripples that seemed to be endless on the surface of the lake. There was Bill, sitting in that same spot, staring at the water. "Hey, so do you guys have any other idea what could be doing this?" I threw the question out there knowing that Sam had spent hours researching on the computer while Dean searched furiously through Dad's journal._

_"We're still leaning towards some sort of creature. We know it's capable of controlling water. We just gotta hope that Lucas saw something. Maybe a hand grab his dad, or a shadow of something," Dean said as he glanced back and forth from my face as I stared at him, sitting in my spot behind Sam, and the road._

_"Okay. Let's just stop and think here for a second," I started._

_Sam was turning in his spot to face me so I didn't even see the point in continuing. He was going to interrupt me. He didn't get all "let me make eye contact" unless he had a point to prove or wanted to say something. "What do you mean stop and think? Becca, we've been doing nothing but research to figure this out." What'd I tell ya?_

_"Right, but just hear me out before you get your giant undies all twisted. First off, if you've narrowed it down to _"creature"_ you suck at this job. Everything we face is a creature, you –"_

_"What about ghosts?" Sam cut in._

_"A ghost is a creature."_

_"No, a ghost is an apparition. It's not always a corporeal type of –"_

_"Okay stop!" I threw my hands in the air and my voice had gone up an octave. "Stop saying corporeal. And a ghost is too a creature. It's a supernatural thing that can attack people. We know that for a fact. If it was just an apparition and not some _corporeal _thing, we couldn't really get rid of it now could we? No! But because it stems from a body, we can get rid of the creature that spirit creates off of." Bam. Becca 1 Sam 0. Suck it. "And second off. The swamp thing is not living in the bottom of that la –" God friggen damn them. Stop cutting me off!_

_Dean was the one who stopped me this time. "How do you know that it doesn't live down there?"_

_"Because it's not real!"_

_"You don –"_

_"Yes I do. It's not living down there so stop suggesting it." We were parked at the top of the hill that led to the park below and I could hear the laughter from the kids all the way up to where we were. I continued my argument as Dean stopped the engine and just turned in his seat to face me. "Okay. Now. Let me finish! Obviously it's a creature, shut up, Sam!" he'd opened his mouth to cut me off. "But I think you guys are missing a big piece of the puzzle. This thing has claimed lives, right? You don't know what's connecting them, but each of them was lost out on the lake –"_

_"Which is why we say that it's –" Dean started._

_"IT'S NOT THE SWAMP THING! I'm thinking it's something angry. What do we know gets all vindictive when it's angry? I think something happened in that lake that's making all these deaths happen. I think it's a spirit."_

_The car was silent. I just watched them. They looked at each other and Dean's lips fell and he twitched his head to Sam, possibly accepting my theory. Sam shrugged his shoulders and then looked at me before facing Dean again._

_"No. I'm still going with some sort of corporeal creature living in the bottom of that lake. It's definitely the swamp thing," Dean finalized as he stepped out of the vehicle and started down the hill._

"The lake," Sam's voice cut across me once more.

"Clearly we know it's the lake, Sam," I sighed and I stood up, the rubber band being pulled between my fingers.

Sam just ignored me and turned to fully face Dean and continue his new discoveries. "Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time."

"And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone almost anywhere." Crap. He's right. I watched him as he stood up and stretched out his arms, finishing by swinging them back and forth in front of him. "This is gonna happen again." Did he just? What was the point of standing up to sit down again? He'd gone to a completely different spot and sat down.

"And we do know one other thing for sure," Sam said turning to follow Dean.

I just didn't understand why they seemed so surprised. I'd pretty much just told them all this same stuff earlier. This was not new information. Why were they acting like they'd never even heard this stuff considered before? "What other thing do we know for sure?" I asked as I flicked the rubber band onto the bed and watched it create a dent in the thin comforter.

"We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton," Sam spun on the bed, giving me attitude as he spoke.

"Well, yeah, it took both his kids." You wanna play with attitude? Oh I can give you attitude. Try me, Sam.

Sam didn't even seem to register that I was basically challenging him. "And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris – Bill Carlton's godson."

"Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit," Dean instructed after he'd gotten his boots on and tied. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair and followed as Sam walked past the door that Dean had been holding open for him, only to have it shut in my face. Seriously? Come on. I tugged on the door knob and it wouldn't budge. Clearly Dean was holding it on the other side, not letting me out. I continued to pull on the door, kicking it a few times.

"Come on, Dean!" I yelled, hearing his gruff laugh on the other side. I twisted the door knob and flung the door open, smacking myself in the forehead during the process. I glared up, rubbing the knot I could already feel forming. I could see the smile that Sam was trying to suppress, and Dean was just straight laughing at me. Oh, it was on.

* * *

"Mr. Carlton?" We were thumping our way down the rickety pier when Sam finally called out to Bill who looked up to see us coming closer. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

Dean was reaching into his pocket to whip out a badge. "We're from the, the Department –"

"I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions today." Oh, denied.

"Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there? Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death – we think there might be a connection to you or your family." Well don't sugarcoat it, Sam. Just tell the guy right out "_dude, your family is doomed. We know you know, tell us_." Tactless.

Bill Carlton looked lost, but pissed. I didn't know if we should keep pushing him for answers or not. "My children are gone. It's… it's worse than dying. Go away. Please."

I saw Dean step forward and I just stepped in front of him and stopped them both from continuing. If Bill was going to tell us something, he would, but on his own terms. I'm not creating a suicide on top of disappearances. I didn't want this guy feeling guilty and taking measures into his own hands or anything. That's not helping anyone at all. We traipsed back up to the Impala and just leaned against it. I was facing the lake. "What do you think?" I heard Sam ask.

"Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell," I answered, not facing them. I glanced over at Bill's sitting form once more.

"I think he's not telling us something," Dean added.

I felt the car shift as one of them leaned on it. "So now what?" I sighed as I turned around and leaned beside Sam, staring at Dean. He didn't answer. "Earth to Dean."

"What is it?" Sam pressed.

"Huh." Dean was staring at the Carlton house. "Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something." What is he talking about? I waited as he pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and held it in front of him, glancing from it to the house repeatedly. What was this monkey doing? He smirked and showed Sam and me what he was looking at, it was the picture that Lucas had given him. I knew that house had looked familiar, it was almost an exact replica.

* * *

"Is this a good idea?" I whispered to Sam as we followed him up the stairs towards the house.

"It's the only thing we've got to go off of." True. Still, I didn't know if I liked the idea of bringing a kid into this any more than he already was.

Dean rapped on the door and we stood there waiting for someone to come and relieve us of our waiting game, and the door finally opened, revealing Andrea. "Is Lucas here?" Dean asked immediately.

"What do you need him for?" The door was gripped in her hand and I noticed her knuckles were white. She was nervous.

"I was just wondering if he would be willing to help us out by telling us about what he saw that day on the lake."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea," Andrea was totally resisting this, but Dean shoved past her. The fear that was on her face was totally understandable, and thankfully, Sam was there to stop her from flipping out as Dean walked into the house.

Dean walked through the door, totally determined. I saw the fire in his eyes, and I didn't think that this determination was something he should necessarily be taking with him to talk to a child. I mean, yeah, Lucas was breaking some of the shell he'd created and communicating with my brother in his own special way; but Dean was someone who acted on impulse and very often had a gruffness to him that people did not really appreciate having thrown at them. If he was going to go in there with one track laid before him, I would definitely be there to hold him back if need be. "Just for a few minutes," he told her stopping just in the foyer area.

Andrea closed the door, and boy did she look not only pissed but a little afraid. "He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?" Way to have faith in him, Andrea. I was a little upset. Clearly he'd sort of said something earlier with picture of the Carlton house, right? He was starting to trust Dean, so even if Lucas didn't talk, why not just give him the opportunity to make that decision on his own?

"Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there," Sam tried explaining with a softness that only he would be able to pull off. I wasn't even that sensitive. Which is sad a bit, and probably pathetic depending on who you ask, but _c'est la vie_. That is the life I lead.

"My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all," Andrea seemed to be trying to convince herself. She has to know that maybe it wasn't just drowning that happened in that lake. This wasn't normal, I know she could feel it just as much as we could.

I stepped forward as Dean's face hardened and his brows lowered to a menacing glare that only indicated nothing good. "Okay. Fine, if that's what you really believe, then, Andrea, we'll go and we won't even consider coming back. I promise you that, all right? But, if you think there is even a _possibility_ that something else could be going on here like I think you do, please. Let Dean try to talk to your son." She eyed me before closing the door, her hand not leaving the knob however. She glanced at Dean whose angry eyes hadn't changed, and she nodded. We all climbed up the stairs and worked our way to the kid's room where he was coloring again, surrounded by tons of little toy soldiers. Andrea and Sam stopped at the doorway as Dean entered and crouched down in front of Lucas and I hung back, my hands in my pockets. I felt out of place, awkward and maybe even unnecessary. I could see from here that there were way more pictures of the bike than just the one from the police station lobby. I stepped forward quickly and crouched down on Dean's side, eyeing them with confusion. Why so many bikes…

"You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you… for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again," Dean's entire demeanor had changed from deathly to kind and gentle. I was impressed. This side of Dean almost never came out, and it was nice to know he wasn't the worst person in the world. I dragged my eyes from the bicycle to the picture that Lucas was working on now. It was a man in the water… Was that supposed to be his dad? Was this him coming out from his shell even more? Dean pulled his folded up copy of the Carlton house from his jacket pocket and unfolded it as Lucas kept coloring.

"Lucas, can I look at this for a second?" I tapped the bicycle drawing with my finger. He didn't move and I began to slowly slide it from the table, standing up with it as I clutched it.

"How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod "yes" or "no" for me." Dean was back to pressing a little harder and I didn't know how far he would get before fully snapping when Lucas didn't respond. "You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too." I looked over my shoulder to see Sam leaning against the door frame. His eyes were lowered and clearly as clouded as mine. This was not an easy story for Dean to tell and we knew that better than anything. I'd never really even heard what happened from Dean's perspective, and I didn't necessarily know that I wanted to. "I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see my mom – I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave, too." Oh man, I don't know if I could handle that information. My heart may have just literally broken. Dean didn't look at anyone, not even Lucas. He was just staring at the table that held Lucas' toys and drawings.

My eyes snapped back from their misty haze as a soft clunk sounded. Lucas had dropped a crayon and was now staring at Dean. Searching through his drawings, he pulled one out and handed it to Dean and watched his response.

Dean eyed the drawing and a small smile formed on his lips, his eyes gaining back some sort of lost sparkle. "Thanks, Lucas."

I followed Dean out of the room, still holding onto the picture of the bicycle Lucas had drawn, not even realizing it. He didn't freak out on me, so I assume he also didn't care, or failed to notice it, too. Whatever, either way now it was lying next to my hand as I stood hunched over in front of the mirror that hung over the sink in the bathroom. My eyes stared at the small pool of water that was collected at the bottom of the basin and watched as small splashes and trails of ripples bounced off each other and the sides. I was suddenly so warm. I saw my face had been bright pink when I entered the small room, and I could see pink veins growing prominent in my usually bright eyes. They were dark and cold now. Dean felt obligated to be like this. He was just like Lucas. He felt like he couldn't be honest with himself or react in a way that felt natural, like not talking. He has literally been repressing and ignoring feelings since he was four to be strong for not only Sam and me, but for our dad, my four year old brother had felt responsible for my dad. I felt so bad while at the same time having a complete dedication and new found admiration for that twenty-six year old jackass that picked on me and was standing downstairs talking to Andrea. I could definitely use a drink right now like no other. I jumped when a soft knock sounded on the door that I'd shut.

"Becca, you wanna let me in?" It was Sam. And no, I didn't want to let him in, but I did. I reached over and placed my hand around the knob, twisting it and slowly pulling open the door. He stepped beside me, that small half smile that he used when he felt sorry for someone or wanted to make them feel better sitting on his face. He quietly shut the door, and leaned against it. "So, Dean got to you, huh?"

"You're gonna really stand there and tell me that he didn't get to you? Not even one little bit?" I tried to say with a scoff, but it came out really bitter and angry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that." I wasn't even looking at him. I was still staring into that clear puddle in the sink.

He shifted. "No, I'm not gonna do that." Good, because I really didn't need to feel like the only one who was freaking out right now. "But right now, I'm not the one that I'm really worried about. You are."

"Oh? And why are you worried about me? I'm grown. I can handle this," I rolled my eyes and looked at him with a vacant expression.

"Clearly; the tear streaks on your face scream total control." What? Tears? I wasn't crying. I looked in the mirror. Crap, I did have tears leaking out of my eyes. Friggen anger! And I knew it was anger this time. I wasn't sad for Dean, no I was super pissed. Okay, maybe I was a little sad too, but I was definitely upset at it all. "It's okay, Becca. I know what you're feeling." Did he? Did he really know what I was feeling? I just stood there. I didn't know what to do. There was a choking in my throat that I couldn't fight anymore. It'd been residing there for what seems like the entire time we'd been on this case and I didn't like it anymore. I felt my chin tremble, and suddenly I lost all control. A sob shook my whole body and Sam's arms were instantly around me, and I was inhaling not only his scent but also part of his shirt, causing me to cough. After my emotional breakdown, I pulled away from Sam and wiped the back on my hand under my nose and eyes. I couldn't look at him. I was so embarrassed. This was the Sam I knew four years ago. Not the Sam that had walked out and left me sitting there like a mess. I hadn't actually broken down about it since that night he left. That was two years of build up right there, and I felt exhausted and empty now.

I washed my hands, drained the sink, and met Sam's expression via the mirror. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, a blush rising in my cheeks.

He pulled a full grin onto his face, how I don't know, but he did. He then placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair. "Don't be sorry, Becs. That's why I'm here. You know, as your personal handkerchief." He was indicating to the shirt that now had a large, and I mean large, wet spot sitting in the middle of it. Dude, had I chewed on it or something? That was so gross. I couldn't help but laugh. Wow.

"Thanks, Sam," I sighed, turning around and hugging him. There was a pounding on the door and I jumped up, a hardcore collision occurring between my skull and Sam's chin… Damn, that was totally gonna kill in the morning. Sucks.

"What are you doing in there? Let's get a move on," Dean's voice was questioning and assuming. I pulled away from Sam, grabbed the picture off the counter, and opened the door, avoiding Dean's eyes. I didn't need him seeing how red mine were. "Dude, what happened to your shirt?" Yeah, let's walk a little bit faster there, Becca.

* * *

We were all piled in the Impala, and I was still avoiding Dean's gaze but feeling almost one hundred percent better. It was actually really relieving. I hadn't been this happy that Sam was back until now because now things were completely back to normal. Whatever riff had been in our relationship was gone, and I was thankful. A huge weight was gone, and I felt so much stronger. I saw Sam staring at the drawing that Lucas had given Dean. There was a yellow house behind an old white… thing. I wasn't really sure what it was. Man, minus that white pointy thing, Lucas was a really good drawer. I wonder if he was always this good or if it was just because of the trauma thing, but if he was this good after, he should look into art school for real.

"Andrea said the kid never drew like that 'til his dad died," Dean informed us from the driver's seat.

"There are cases – going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies." Thanks for the class lesson, Sam. I smiled and rolled my eyes. This kid was totally a geek.

Dean rolled his own eyes. "_Whatever's_ out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please." Was he trying to start a fight? Calm down, grumpy pants. Things are good. Lucas helped, I'm relaxed, Sam's happy, we clearly have a lead with this yellow house or white… thing, whatever, it's some sort of help, right? Sam shrugged his shoulders and threw a hand up showing that he didn't really know what to say. Oy vay, they are killing me.

"Well, there is another house we can find," I shrugged finally catching Dean's eyes for the first time since we'd left Andrea and Lucas.

"Yeah, and the only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone," Dean bit back with a bit of venom.

Sam was staring at the picture, Dean was white knuckling the steering wheel, I was chewing on my tongue and staring at the passing scenery. I was only trying to help you, Dean. Don't you go biting my head off. "See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here." That white thing was a church? How did I not get that? I grabbed the picture from Sam and stared at it. No, I definitely did not get church out of that.

"Oh, college boy thinks he's so smart," Dean retorted. Wow. College boy is smart. I didn't know that was a church so unless Dean knew, Sam is clearly the smartest one in the room, or car, or space, whatever. He was smartest.

There was silence as music sifted through the air, and I tapped my fingers against the leather seat as I listened, a small smile tugging on my lips. "You know, um…" Sam had broken the silence and he sounded distant. "What you said about Mom… You never told me that before." You are _not_ alone. Did he need to be reminded of the bathroom incident? Hello, mental anguish turned teary cryasaurus over here.

"It's no big deal," Dean assured him. What? That was a huge deal! If it wasn't a big deal I wouldn't have freaked out and Sam wouldn't be bringing it up now. This was one of the biggest "deal"s I'd ever experienced. "Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?" Sam and Dean both grinned. Oh brother bonding… I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Sam's shoulders.

"I'll hug you, Sammy," I grinned, resting my chin on his shoulder.

Sam removed my arms from around him and turned to face me with a serious expression. "It's Sam."

I leaned back hesitantly. What did that jerk just say to me? "You let Dean call you Sammy!"

"I like Dean more than you." And with that he TURNED AROUND and acted like what he just said was nothing. That son of a…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven.**

**Alright. Here is the rest of the episode! :) I hope you enjoy it. It's a little longer than the last one, but not too much, so I am going to go with that is quite okay!**

**Please read, review, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer.  
Song : _Moving On -_ Bad Company.**

* * *

Okay, so maybe the white, pointy thing looked a little bit like this church. Not that I would have known right away like Sam did. I don't care what you say, that was hard to figure out. Across the street though, was that yellow house and that _did _look like the drawing. Jogging to keep up with their large strides, I made it up the stairs just as a lady was allowing them into the house. It was an old home, like many of the ones in this north woods town, and it was littered with mementos of someone. She looked old enough to be my grandma, but from the photos I saw, the only kid that had been in this house was either fully grown now or totally into seventies retro. "We're really sorry to bother you, ma'am, but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle."

"No sir. Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now," she responded with a sigh and shaky voice. I knew that kid was a Brady fan. I was looking around at the photos on the table closest to me. Man, Peter was a small kid. "The police never… _I_ never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared." I spun when a thump attacked my upper arm. Sam was eyeing a distant table covered in toy soldiers. Huh… Is that why Lucas had them always sitting there, because Peter was so into them? "Losing him… you know, it's… it's worse than dying."

"Did he disappear from here?" I posed, not meeting her eyes but continuing to step around the room and glancing at pictures of Peter, looking for something that could help outside of the tiny army men.

Dean finished for me when there was a silence from the woman. "She means, from the house…"

"He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up." Well, maybe he was kidnapped? Dean was suddenly beside me, staring at the pictures pinned on the mirror in front of us.

Mrs. Sweeny, the old woman, was talking to our turned backs. I pulled the wrinkled drawing from the pocket I'd stuffed it into when we were leaving Andrea's, and straightened it out as best I could. Dean plucked an old yellowed photo from the mirror and showed it to me with a face that said just read "_check it_". Holding the drawing next to the photo, we both saw that this Peter kid was definitely the one connecting to Lucas via freaky spiritual connection. Dean flipped the photo over and we both saw "_Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970"_ written on the back. I stuck my tongue in my cheek and eyed Dean, seeing an upset, determined look in his eyes. Bill Carlton definitely needed to start talking, whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

"Okay, this little boy, Peter Sweeney, vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow," Sam ran through quickly as Dean sped down the street towards the Carlton residence and lake.

"Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?" Dean spoke just as fast.

Sam was getting louder. His hands started moving with his words, and I think spit was flying from his lips. "And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished."

"So what if Bill did something to Peter?" Dean was flicking his head forward and to his right just as quickly as the words flew from his lips, his eyes wide and his mind visibly working towards some sort of answer.

"What if Bill killed him?" Sam's tone was so loud it could have been classified as a full shout. I jumped and Dean's face went into recognition. Did I not tell them this? I totally told them this.

"Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible." Holy word vomit. How did they talk so fast? I could hardly keep up with them, they'd shot the words back and forth, hardly seeming to realize I was in the car with them. My eyes seemed to be spinning from bouncing from one animated brother to the other. Whoa, I was dizzy.

I coughed, making sure to gain their attention. Sam's eyes were wide, it was like he was still high from the adrenaline rush or something. "I just really want to point out to you both… I totally said it was a spirit, and neither of you two clowns believed me!" I wasn't surprised neither of them answered me, but the force that caused me to fly into the back of the seat took me by surprise when Dean pushed his foot closer to the Impala's floor.

* * *

I crawled out of the car on a mission. Sam and Dean were somewhere behind me when I'd reached the front door and started pounding hard on it. "MR. CARLTON!" I yelled through the pounds. There was a large hand on my arm and Dean's annoyed face met mine. Before anyone could start an argument, an engine roared and we all moved off the porch. I walked around the corner of the house, my eyes searching every place I could. Where was Bill? The bench was empty.

"Hey, check it out," Dean pointed a finger towards the middle of the lake. There was a boat moving across the surface, a sullen, hunched over figure driving it. Bill.

Running down as fast as I could, I quickly made it down to the edge of the dock, way ahead of Dean or Sam. I was screaming out "_Mr. Carlton_" over and over, but it was too no avail. I thought for sure he was too far out. He would have turned around with how frantic I sounded, right? He couldn't know that by going out there he was inevitably going straight to his death… There was no way, was there? Was he going out there on purpose? No. I wouldn't believe it.

"Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!"

"Mr. Carlton!" Both Dean and Sam were finally behind me on the dock, screaming… In my ears… I'm deaf. I was panting, still out of breath, and my eyes were wide. Bill just turned around to look at us, and kept going. He did know, he was going out to the lake on purpose. No, no, no, no, NO, NO! God, ugh. No. I had to stop this, how could I stop this? I don't know why I did it, but I flung off my coat, kicked off my shoes, and pulled my hair into a pony tail as quickly as I could. The next thing I knew, my face was colliding with the cold water, and I was swinging my arms and pumping my legs, aiming for the stupid boat that was obviously too far ahead for me to reach.

My head surfaced and I took a breath of air, about to dive below the surface again when I froze. The water under the boat rose into the air like some sort of volcanic eruption, and the boat flipped in the air, splinters of wood and contents flying from the crash and into the air, landing in the surrounding water. Bill hit the glassy surface with such an impact that my own body responded with a cry of pain. The boat crashed to the water and was instantly consumed. Nothing remained in the water except me, and the only ripples I could see were my own. What the hell just happened? I just stayed there, treading water before I spun and stared at Sam and Dean, their faces just as shocked as mine. Was this over? I slowly began swimming back to the dock which was farther than I anticipated, and tried to ignore the very angry set of eyes staring at me just below a set of rather assured and stubborn ones. Dean and Sam kneeled down, helping me as I pulled myself onto the wooden platform, coughing out some water that I'd accidentally swallowed.

"What are you nuts?!" Dean screamed as I laid on my back, staring up at him. Wow, I was out of shape and exhausted.

"Dean," Sam cut in as he removed his jacket.

Dean turned on the spot, accidentally standing on my hair as I attempted to sit up. "Sammy, she just dove into the haunted lake. After a boat. That was suicide."

"No," I panted, grabbing his ankle and pushing it off of my hair. He stepped to the side and stared down at me. Well, glared down at me. Man was he pissed. "I wasn't trying to commit suicide, Dean. It was the only thing I could think of to do to stop Bill. I didn't see you doing anything."

Sam was helping me stand and wrapping both his jacket and my own around me. I didn't realize how cold it was outside and I was shivering. I picked up my shoes and looked at Dean. "Oh, and you were just gonna mermaid your way over there or something? You could have been killed, Becca. It was stupid of you to go jumping in there like that. What if Peter had taken you down too?"

"Peter doesn't want me dead, Dean! He was after Bill. I didn't do anything for Peter to come after me. I'm sorry I went in the water, okay? Yeah, it was stupid. You're right. Is that what you want to hear? I just couldn't stand there and watch him drive out to the middle of the lake like that. He knew what he was doing, didn't you see that? He was going out there on purpose; he knew Peter was going to take him, just like his children and Chris Barr. He wanted to die." I was filled with rage. My arms were flying as I talked and I was dripping water all over the place. My shoes moved around so much that I had almost hit Sam multiple times.

"Then you let him go out there," Dean's tone was low and his head was directly in front of mine. He was so close that I could see the wrinkles around his eyes vividly and the flecks in his eyes that were just around the pupil. "You don't go out there and chase down a boat that you were never going to get to in time. You don't go out there and kill yourself trying to get to him. You can't save everyone, Becca. Do you know that?"

My body was shaking from the cold and there were goose bumps on my arms, even though they were wrapped beneath two jackets. Dean was right. I couldn't have saved Bill no matter how hard I tried. And I knew he wasn't as angry that I did it, but that he was worried for my safety. I sighed and looked into his large almond eyes that were searching mine for some sort of answer. "I'm sorry. I just reacted. I haven't seen someone just drive off into death like that before, Dean. We're supposed to save people, not let them die. I'm really, really sorry." My voice was quiet as it made its way past my chattering lips. His eyes softened and I saw him stand up straight before he took his own jacket off. He wrapped it around the two that were shaking on my shoulders.

"Come on, before you get pneumonia or something," he draped an arm across my shoulders, bringing me to him and rubbing my arm, trying to create a warmth while Sam took the shoes from my hand and started walking ahead of us to start the car.

* * *

I followed Dean, Sam, and the sheriff into the police station. Dean said he would have stopped off at the motel for me to change, but I refused. We needed to tell someone about Bill. I wasn't as worried about me as I was about making sure that this case was over. Hearing the bell above the door clink as it shut, I was surprised to see Andrea and Lucas waiting for us.

"Sam, Dean… Becca," she eyed each of us individually. Why'd she say my name like that? I'd been nice to her, right? I know I looked a mess, my blue lips against my pale skin, and my dark hair finally stopping the flow of dark water it'd been leaking down my gray tee that now clung to me just as tightly as my blue jeans and cotton socks. I was still wearing the three jackets, so I'm sure I looked bulky, but her tone just didn't seem necessary. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"So now you're on a first-name basis," the sheriff skeptically stated as he eyed Dean with that protective father gaze. You have no idea, Jake, _no_ idea. "What are you doing here?"

Andrea pointed to the bag and Tupperware container that was sitting on a chair near Lucas. "I brought you dinner." Man, I could totally eat right now… Like a double bacon cheeseburger, and I don't even like bacon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time," Jake tried to tell her.

"I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?" Holy hell, how did she hear about Bill? I was literally still wet with lake water, and she already knew? Man, talk about a gossiping small town. That was crazy. Did people just stare out of their windows and call each other all day or something? That was ridiculous.

Jake's face fell, but he quickly looked tired and defiant as he put a hand on Andrea's shoulder. "Right now we don't know what the truth is. But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home."

There was a whine from the other side of the room, and I peaked around Andrea to see Lucas shaking. I wrinkled my brows just as he leaped up and clutched onto Dean's arm.

"Lucas, hey, what is it?" Dean was searching Lucas's face, and to be honest, I was just as worried as he was. The kid didn't make noise at all, and here he is whining and pulling on Dean's arm, even after he had his full attention. "Lucas." The kid was panicking. I was going to step forward and try to help Dean, when Andrea stepped in front of me.

"Lucas," she tried to be comforting, but it came out worried.

"Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay," Dean was being so good with this kid, and I for sure thought that Lucas would have spoken to him, but Andrea just pulled him away from Dean. As she pushed him through the door, I caught Lucas's eyes, and he just dragged them over to Dean. Something was wrong.

I followed them towards the door. Sam caught my arm. "Not now. We need to figure this out, Becca."

He was right. I followed them into the office. Jake threw his jacket onto a chair before we walked through the door, and turned to face us with an angered expression. "Okay, just so I'm clear, you see… _something_ attack Bill's boat, sending Bill – who is a very good swimmer, by the way – into the drink, and you never see him again?" You have no idea, Jake. I didn't look at my brothers, but I nodded my head.

"Yeah, I suppose that about sums it up," I seethed.

"And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible?"

I threw a heavily padded arm into the air and pointed a finger at the sheriff's face. "Look, Jake, I know what I saw in that water. It's not impossible. Okay? Obviously someone else saw it, too, because the news has already spread through town. I didn't dive into the water for nothing, all right? Something sucked Bill up like he was going through a straw. Now, you need to let us look at that lake," I was shaking, but not from cold now. I was angry. I didn't just risk my life for some guy to call me crazy. Dean pulled me back towards Sam and him. I didn't realize it, but I was now up against and leaning over the desk. Jake's face was scrunched up and I thought that if he could, he would have screamed at me right there.

"And what about the fact that you're not really with the Wildlife Service?" The only part of all those questions that _didn't_ affect me was the Wildlife thing. I honestly didn't think we'd get away with it to begin with. Dean however stiffened where he stood next to me. "That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you, _any_ of you."

Dean tried to throw his shit eating grin on his face and weasel our way out of the mess. But Jake's a guy, not a girl, and I'd practically just ripped his face off without out knowing it. I didn't see him buying into that charade of innocence at all. "See, now, we can explain that –"

"Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again." Are you friggen serious? Oh. Hell. No.

"I'm not leaving without any answers so you can just go ahead and throw me in jail, you sick –" Sam clamped a hand over my mouth and clung me to him, pinning my thick arms to my side, as Dean just tried to fake innocence again.

"Door number two sounds good," I felt the vibrations through Sam's chest as he spoke. I was glaring so many daggers at Jake that it is amazing he didn't bleed through that smug uniform he was wearing.

He eyed me and tapped the handcuffs on his belt, sticking his tongue in his cheek before sucking on his teeth. "That's the one I'd pick."

I didn't even fight as Sam shoved me out of the station and towards the car. He was busy getting in my face as I stomped off to the Impala and threw myself inside, completely ignoring him as he ranted. Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited until Dean started the car and then I leaned forward, blaring the stereo to a deafening level, drowning out all incoming sounds from my twin. I slammed into the back of the seat and glared at the police station, watching as Jake came out to make sure we'd headed to the motel to collect our things.

* * *

It was later that night and we were headed towards the interstate. I was clean once more, and clad in clothes that only belonged to me, including jackets. I hadn't talked to Sam since the incident at the station, but when Sam had gone to check us out of the room, I blew up at Dean. He handled it well, but that didn't stop me from throwing a pillow past his head. I was now curled up in the back seat of the Impala, staring at the darkness. The car slowed as we neared the traffic light, none of us had said a single word since we'd gotten into the car, and to be honest, I didn't really even care at this point. I saw a green hue spread through the car but didn't feel the shift of the car moving from zero to anything.

"Green," Sam sighed, looking out of his own window.

"What?" Dean turned to face him.

I cut Sam off, still staring out at the sign beside me that read "_I-43 North; Milwaukee"_ and pointed to our left. "The light's green."

I leaned into the door, and watched the sign disappear from view. What was he doing? "Uh, the interstate's the other way?" Sam informed us.

"I know," Dean barked, accelerating.

I was perked up now. We were driving back into town towards Andrea's house; and I was itching to go and get answers. "But Dean –" Sam started.

"Shut up, Sam," I growled from where I sat behind him.

Dean shot me a look. "What Sam?"

"I think this job is over…"

"I'm not so sure," he answered.

I smiled at him, receiving low eyes in return. This is why he'd turned the car around, right? He believed me? There was something going on, and we'd left too early. Sam; however, wouldn't quit. "If Bill murdered Peter Sweeny and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest."

I flipped out. Spinning in the seat, I faced the side of Sam's face. "All right, Sam. So what if we take off, huh? What if this thing isn't done! What if we _missed something_? What if more people get hurt?" I was fuming and I felt the small sting of salty tears against my rims and did my best to push them back. No, I was NOT about to cry. I wasn't that angry, I was pissed, though, that is a fact.

"Fine, Becca, but tell me, _why_ would you think that?"

I opened my mouth, ready to bite back when Dean spoke. "Because Lucas was really scared," he remarked. Um, no, I was going to say "_because Bill and Chris weren't related and just because you're a godparent doesn't make me think you have a strong enough connection_". If Peter's spirit was going after people that Bill just knew and was close to, why wouldn't it have gone after his best friend or something like that? It was targeting important people in Bill's life and I guarantee there just had to be more to Chris Barr's end of the story.

"Is that what this is about?" Sam had refocused his attention on Dean who was still staring at the road.

"I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay," Dean dictated.

Sam and I were silent for a moment. Did Dean just really say that? I glanced at Sam who glanced at me, and we both glanced at the side of Dean's spiky head. "Who are you? And what have you done with our brother?" Sam inquired.

Dean turned and looked at us both before his face screwed up in partial embarrassment and pride. "Shut up."

* * *

Oh thank God, we were finally here. I flew from the car and up the steps of the house. I rang the door bell as Dean and Sam made their way behind me. "Are you sure about this? It's pretty late." It's not like the crap we hunt has some sort of time clock they use, you moron. When no one answered the bell, I pounded my fist repeatedly on the door. Just as I was about to reconnect my skin to the wood, the door flew open and Lucas barreled into Dean's legs.

"Lucas? Lucas!" Dean bolted into the house after Lucas who had turned and ran. Sam and I piled in after them, chasing them up the stairs and to the bathroom.

There was a puddle flowing from beneath the door and Lucas started pounding on it just as hard as I'd been doing on the front door less than thirty seconds ago. Dean pushed past us all, turning Lucas and pushing him towards Sam and me, before kicking down the door. Lucas quickly grabbed Dean, shaking and pulling at him, leaving Sam and me to run in and find Andrea completely submerged below water that looked like it had come pouring out of the lake itself. It was so dark, I couldn't even see her through it. I ran to one end and reached into the water, wrapping my hands around her upper arm and tugged as hard as I could. It was like she was cemented in there. Sam was right beside me, tugging just as hard, and I gasped when I felt her body shift and become lighter. She was almost out, just a little more. Suddenly, I was pulled forward extremely fast, slipping in the water and colliding with the porcelain tub. A pain spread throughout my head, but I couldn't focus on that right now. I brought myself to my knees, before forcing myself to stand up and tried to not sway on the spot. Andrea's face was in the water, but she was sitting up. I just had to get to her face… I moved forward and stood on the other side of Sam, wrapping my arms around her chest, locking my hands together, my arms under her armpits, and pulled. We struggled and I could hear Lucas's gasping and whining, fighting against Dean who continually tried to reassure him, and I hope block him from what was going down in here, when Andrea's body suddenly moved up and out of the tub, landing on Sam and me, coughing up lake water.

The sun was beginning to rise and I was sipping on oddly enough, water, as I was once again wrapped in Sam's jacket. Andrea sat across from me, looking beyond panicked. Sam was sitting next to her on the couch, and our eyes met. I bit my lip and looked at my knees before connecting with his eyes once more. He threw a small smile across his lips and I knew that our argument from earlier was over and that we'd both just forgiven each other. "Can you tell me?" he asked Andrea. We'd been trying to calm her down to get answers from her. She'd kept shaking her head every time we'd asked if she knew what happened, and it was only recently that she'd stopped avoiding it.

"No." Well that's not making any improvement here. "It doesn't make any sense." Okay, maybe I stand, or sit, corrected. I dropped my eyes when I heard cries start coming from her throat. This just got real uncomfortable, real quick. "I'm going crazy!" she threw her hands to her face and started rubbing them vigorously.

"No, you're not," I smiled kindly. "Just tell us what happened, please… Everything…"

She was silent. I swear that this was getting us nowhere. There had to be something else that would help us figure out why Andrea had been attacked. Maybe Dean was finding something in the bookshelf… "I heard… I thought I heard… there was this voice," she broke the silence.

Sam shifted and faced her with eagerness. "What did it say?"

"It said… it said "_come play with me_"," she seemed disgusted, and if it had been in a ghost baby voice, I do not blame her. Peter was starting to make me think he was some sadistic, trapped kid. _Come play with me_? Who does that? He wasn't playing with anyone, he was killing them! What kind of game involves murder? Well, besides _Clue_… I swallowed some more water as Andrea began to sob once more, making me suddenly uncomfortable. "What's happening?" she begged.

Dean appeared in front of us with a book. He slapped it to the table sitting in front of Andrea, and opened to a photo that was labeled "_Explorer Troop 37_" underneath. I didn't have to move to see it was filled with a group of young boys. "Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?"

"What? Um, um, no. I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures," she pointed to the front row. When she moved her finger to a photo on the next page, tapping it, "Yeah, I'd say he was probably twelve." I had to stand for this one. No way. There was Jake standing next to Peter. I knew there was some other connection!

Dean looked at Sam, both suddenly coming to the same conclusion that I did. "Chris Barr's drowning. The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff."

"Bill _and_ the sheriff… They were both involved with Peter."

Andrea's voice made me jump, I'd honestly forgotten she was even in the room. "What about Chris? My dad… what are you talking about?"

No one answered her. How do you just tell someone "_well, we found out that your dad may know something about the disappearance of a kid named Peter, who died, and is now taking revenge on loved ones by drowning them via the lake_" without freaking them out and having them automatically assume you're some lying ass? You don't. And the last time I'd tried to be honest about something, the chick didn't look pleased, no she looked like she wanted to throw up and then slap me.

"Lucas, what is it?" I snapped my head around to see what Dean was referring to, and I saw Lucas open and walk through the door. I set my glass down as I passed the table and followed Dean.

"Lucas, honey?" Andrea called from beside me.

Lucas stopped walking and just stared at the ground before turning around and looking at me. I stepped over to where he was and looked at what he was staring at… a pile of dirt… I was going to need a shovel. Screw shovels, I don't have the patience right now. Throwing myself to my knees beside Lucas's feet, I started clawing my way through the soft ground as far as I could, feeling my nails break and start to bleed.

"Becca, move," Dean's voice was rough and the blade of a shovel pierced the earth just to the left of my hands. I stood up and tapped my foot impatiently as Sam and Dean continued to dig, making more headway than I'd done when I heard a metal on metal scratch. They pulled the shovels out of the ground and I was instantly back down there, quickly shoving the looser dirt out of my way, revealing something bright red. Dean reached down in front of me and tugged, pulling out a large red bike.

"Peter's bike!" I gasped.

"Who are you?" I spun quickly, finding Jake standing there staring at us with a facial expression that I didn't really understand. What I did understand was that we'd just been busted, and he was super angry. I'm sure you're wondering _how _I knew Jake was pissed. Well, I am only guessing he was pretty ticked off because I was looking into the tiny end of his pistol, which was aimed directly for the spot between my eyes. Why _my_ eyes? Well, probably because I'd snapped all over him in his office… Then again…

Sam stepped forward and slightly blocked me with his body. If this asshole takes a bullet for me, I'll kill him. "Put the gun down, Jake," Sam's voice was cool and calm, even though I could see the slight tremble in his upraised hand. There was a metallic clang as the shovels fell to the ground and I just stood there, my hands slightly raised in front of me, covered in black soil and holding a piercing pain beneath the nails.

"How did you know that was there?" Jake shifted in his spot so that he could see me around Sam. I stepped to the side, allowing myself to be fully exposed.

"What happened? You and Bill –" I had a bitter tone. I was still pent up against him from the office incident, but I didn't press it when Dean had cut me off.

"You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried." One, that was deep. Two, if Dean gets shot, or Sam gets shot because I have a bad temper, I will attack Jake so quickly, he won't know what hit him. Then I will beat the crap out of both of them for doing that. They are not allowed to take a bullet for me. They have to stay alive, at all costs.

Jake shifted in his spot and tilted his head, his eyes still not leaving me. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he announced. Like hell you don't.

"You and Bill killed Peter Sweeny thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell he's talking about," I bit. I could only see red as that barrel continued to point to my head. "And now you got one _seriously_ pissed-off spirit," I definitely had more a cocky attitude in my voice than I should have, but I couldn't stop myself. Andrea had come running from the house, yelling for her dad, and surprisingly, he ignored her.

Sam stepped in front of me again. I saw the barrel shift over to Sam's chest and I wanted to do something to draw the attention back to me when Sam started speaking. "It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does."

Jake hadn't noticed, but I'd successfully gained a step forward, I was now directly beside Sam and a foot in front of Dean, who I was sure _did _notice. "Yeah, and how do you know that?" Jake pushed, his gun not moving from Sam's chest.

"Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton," my voice carried with a distinguishing finality. You can't argue the truth. Dean was right, that shit's gonna come out sooner or later.

"Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane," Jake barked.

"I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake," Dean was pissed, and I could tell just from his voice.

Before Jake got enough spit in his mouth to throw at us, Andrea stepped up to him, "Dad, is any of this true?"

"No," he lied. "Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous." _We're_ liars and dangerous? I don't know if I've ever seen a more exact definition of the phrase "takes one to know one". This guy still had a gun pointed to my brother's chest, he was red in the face, and he was glaring at us from where he stood. We on the other hand hadn't even pulled out a weapon besides a shovel while being here. Oh, yeah, we're gonna bury you alive. Be terrified.

Andrea was a little more forceful now, and she eyed us before stepping closer to her oh-so-innocent father. "Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me." I sighed a huge breath when his head turned away from us. Sam pushed me back a few steps. "Tell me you… you didn't kill anyone." Jake couldn't even look her in the eye. "Oh my God," Andrea's voice was low, but I knew what she said when her eyes widened and her hands flew to her face.

"Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank." _You didn't mean to?_ You didn't mean to! What kind of… I was so angry I honestly couldn't even think straight and completely shifted my stance. I couldn't stand still; I couldn't breathe without it coming out heavy through my nostrils which were flaring like a bull in the matador ring. "Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drowning, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational." I wanted to scream that it was completely rational, but the gun had only just lowered slightly and I wasn't going to scare the crazy man when he could easily release a bullet into Sam.

"All right," Dean's tone was calm and filled with so much authority that I snapped to attention, instantly ready to follow, "listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now."

Andrea began looking around and gasped. Spinning, we all saw Lucas walking down the pier I'd dived off of earlier. I heard someone shout out Lucas' name and was instantly running, hot on Sam and Dean's tails, ignoring every voice that was fighting the wind that was speeding past my ear. We reached the dock just after Jake, who was frozen. Lucas had disappeared into the dark water and Dean dove straight in, just like I had earlier, Sam pierced the water seconds later. I was searching the surface for either of them as Andrea screamed "_Oh my God_" beside me and started removing her jacket.

"Andrea, stay there!" Sam had emerged from the depths and was yelling.

"No, Lucas!" she fought, continuing to remove things that could get wrecked from the water.

I grabbed her arms when she'd taken a pre-dive position. "They'll get him! Just stay on the dock!" I yelled in her ear. I struggled to keep her from joining the rest of them in the water, and we both fell to our knees, my arms wrapped around her. Sam and Dean both appeared from the dark water, looking around.

"Sam?" Dean panted as he spit water out between his breaths. Both guys dove below the surface once more when Sam shook his head.

"Lucas, where are you?" Andrea was practically in tears, and I couldn't bring myself to look at her. Not now. I should be in that water with them, but I knew that if I went in, there was no way to get Andrea to stay on this wooden platform alone. She'd dive right in after me, and then she'd drown too.

I searched the water. It was so dark that you couldn't see anything deeper than probably five inches, and I was filling with panic. "Peter. Lucas… he's, he's just a little boy," I could hear Jake, but his voice was not next to me like it should have been. I spun my head and saw him walking into the water, holding up his hands as though he was trying to balance, tears dripping down his cheeks. "Please, it's not his fault, it's mine. Please take me." Andrea had found a new strength as she twisted and fought against my hold. And I was struggling. She was taller than me, and I was still exhausted from everything that'd happened and I hadn't slept off. I heard Dean yell for Jake to not enter the water when I heard a loud expulsion of breath near where Jake was standing. Peter's face was suddenly there, staring at Jake, and I could hardly hold Andrea back. "Just let it be over!"

I had to pin Andrea down practically when Jake was dragged into the murky water and she yelled "Daddy! Daddy! No!" I could feel her tears landing on my arms and I just tightened my grip, barely holding her back from falling over the edge. I heard splashes and saw feet in the air as Sam and Dean dove down once more. "No!" I was going to be completely deaf by the end of the day; that was for certain.

Sam appeared before Dean, shaking his head and out of breath. Andrea went limp in my arms and I couldn't breathe. No. We did not do this for nothing. Dean still hadn't emerged and my little bit of breathing was becoming ragged. I, along with Sam, was looking as far as I could into the water when finally there was a break and gasp for air as Dean popped up, an unmoving Lucas in his arms.

* * *

I was already packed and leaning against the back door of the car when Dean and Sam came out of the motel room. "Look, we're not gonna save everybody… Just like you told Becca," Sam sighed as he threw a bag into the back seat.

"I know," Dean's voice was low and his expression matched what I assume mine looked like the day I dove in after Bill. I smiled past him, to Andrea and Lucas who were walking up with a tray full of sandwiches.

"Sam, Dean… Becca." Still with the tone! I rolled my eyes and shifted my stance.

"Hey," Dean smiled.

"We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road," she told us as Lucas held them up for us to see. "Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself."

He looked up to his mom and actually spoke. The kid talked! Can you believe it? I couldn't help but smile. "Can I give it to them now?"

"Of course," Andrea smiled down at him. She bent down and kissed the top of his head.

"Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car," Dean told him and walked towards me. Stepping up and opening the front door, I went to the back and pulled out a small cooler that Dean always had stashed back there. Bringing it to them, I helped them load the sandwiches into it before stuffing it next to Sam's bag on the floor in the back. I grabbed one and stuffed it in my mouth while Dean sat Lucas down and had him repeating something. Coming back out into the fresh air, I bit into the sandwich that had just been sort of hanging there between my teeth, choking when I heard "_Zeppelin rules_!" come out of Lucas's mouth with excitement. "That's right. Up high," Dean commanded, receiving a hardcore high five and a full fledged grin. Aw, Dean really was good with kids! "You take care of your mom, okay?" Dean was a little more serious now, and nodded when Lucas obliged.

I saw Andrea walking up and literally gagged on my sandwich when she kissed Dean. Dear lord. I climbed into the back of the car, unable to handle any more. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the back of the leather, a small smile spreading as I finished the sandwich. I have never loved or enjoyed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich so much in my entire life. All the sounds around me were starting to fade when I heard the crunch and squeaks of the doors as the guys climbed in and the engine purred to life, instantly vibrating the car and deepening my intense need for sleep. Sam and Dean's voice were low grumbles as Bad Company played in the speakers, and the last thing I remember hearing was _Yeah, yeah, yeah, I never seem to slow down…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight. **

**This chapter was actually a bit hard for me to write. Not only because for one part I was finding it really difficult to fit Becca in there like she normally is, and I'm sure you're going to see just what part I'm talking about; but also because there is so much going on in my outside life that I got distracted. Please forgive me. I will definitely be back on my game after this! Also, this episode, the way it's broken down, there may be more or less words in each chapter, and possibly even more or less chapters. I'm really trying to even everything out for you.**

**So, without further ado, please READ, REVIEW, ENJOY. Thank you.**

**And an additional thanks to those who have reviewed, PMed, and added it to their lists. You are definitely driving me to get each chapter out as quickly as I can. Pat yourselves on the back!**

**Disclaimer. (_The Breakfast Club_). I don't think there's a song, but if there is, that's disclaimed too. :)**

* * *

I twisted myself over and stuffed my face into the pillow, trying to avoid the early gray light that was blinding me as it showed through the bottom of the curtains that poorly covered the window above the couch I was stretched out on. It was too early, and I was desperate for more sleep. I could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the wall divider, signaling that at least someone was lucky enough to still be enjoying some nice comatose moments. I sighed gruffly and brought the thin, scratchy blanket farther up around my head, finally feeling fatigue take over. The bright gray was leaving and a dark blackness was quickly consuming when I heard rattling from outside the door leading to our room. Fantastic. I was here, trying to fall asleep on the couch that was pressed up against the door frame, while my brothers lay in the beds ten feet away. That ten feet seemed like over a hundred right now though, and I didn't appreciate it. I kept my eyes squinted as tightly as I could before I couldn't see anymore while my heart kept pounding in my ears as the rattling continued and then there was a jingle of the doorknob accompanying it. I could feel the coolness of my switchblade that sat hidden between the cushion and the back of the couch and I wrapped my long fingers around it, clicking it open. The heavy breathing that had been going on, on the other side of the wall had stopped and I knew that I was no longer the only one up. The door opened and in walked a giant shadowed figure who looked down at me, a small chuckle escaping past its lips and a more than loud enough thunk sounded as he closed the door and rubbed the top of my head with a hand. Friggen Sam. I knew that scoff, and I could see his shoes before the light was cut off by the door being shut. I grumbled and fixed my blade, stuffing it back between the cushion and couch back, drawing the blanket completely over me and squeezed my eyes fully shut, determined to go back to sleep. Why was this buffoon up? It was early, like really early from what I could tell, and we should be sleeping. Do you hear that, Sam? Sleeping. Go back to bed and stop making so much noise. Besides! He should know better than to walk into the room so loudly. I could have easily sprung from the couch and attacked him. I heard his feet pad their way past me and stop on the carpet at the foot of Dean's bed.

"Morning, sunshine," he beamed. God he was chipper, how long had he been up? I just tried to ignore the voice that was like claws digging into my brain and begged my body to fall back asleep.

"What time is it?" Dean's voice was rough and grainy. He'd clearly been asleep until Sam had fumbled his way into the room loudly. I was happy his voice was so rough though, hopefully he would tell Sam to shut up and crawl back into his bed and go to sleep until it was later in the day and a more logical time to get up.

"Uh, it's about five forty-five," Sam responded while the things he'd been carrying in his hand made lapping noises and the box had contents sliding around inside of it. Did he say five forty-five? It's practically a sin to be up this early in the day! My eyes shot open in surprise and I shockingly asked the question the same time Dean did.

"In the morning?" Okay so mine had been a little more up there in octaves and surprise, but that's not the point. It was early and Sam was up and rearing to go and I just wanted that sweet, sweet, addictive sleep. I outwardly made a noise that sounded like a strangled sob and groan had a baby in my throat and escaped. I didn't want to be up this early. Why were they up this early?!

I picked the lumpy pillow up and stuck my head underneath it, but because it was tiny and made to be a decoration, I could see everything beneath it. I didn't even see the point in keeping my eyes closed. The bright light was going to keep blinding me, even if my lids were shut. Their voices continued, and with each word I could hear Dean's voice gaining volume and normality. He was waking up, it was inevitable. Now they were going to be moving around, and they'd heard my voice so they knew I'd be either on the verge of sleep, or up and moving around with them. They better keep friggen quiet. "Yep," Sam popped the "p" and just looked over at me, a small laugh coming from his lips as he stared at my crumpled form on the brick disguised as a couch of some sort.

"Where does the day go?" Where does the day go? Dean, it's not even day! It's five forty-five in the morning. This is not day. No, this was evil, and bright, and obnoxious. This was the hangover that night threw up and left sitting there before day came rolling in at a normal time, like nine. I heard the squeaks of the mattress and the movement of fabric against its itchy counterpart, signaling Dean was up and sitting. Great. He might have been accepting of this, but I was not. No. It was still sleepy time, and I wanted that, no I _cherished _that. I need sleep. Like, desperately. "Did you get any sleep last night?" Oh come on! Can we not have a full blown brother bonding conversation right now? One of you go shower, the other one just go do something that is out of the room or quiet, and I will steal the empty bed, and go back to the slumber that the devil had pulled me out of.

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam wasn't convincing. He'd probably tossed and turned all night if he did sleep. I remembered falling asleep to old _Happy Days_ reruns and a red glow from the neon sign outside. Sam and Dean both just scoffed to someone telling someone else to "_sit on it"_ and I didn't remember anything past that.

"Liar. 'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial." Why was Dean up at three? Why were we up now? I squeezed the pillow closer to my head, but I knew it was too late. I was gaining a stronger sense of sight and my body was awake now and I could barely feel the grip of sleep on my brain. I frowned and just tried to regain the warmth and feeling.

Sam's voice was just as sarcastic as any comment that had ever passed mine or Dean's lips, and I smiled. "Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV." Haha. Right, can't get enough of that grease drip pan… There was a groan as Dean shifted on his bed, and I'd hoped that he'd laid back down. That's right, Dean, be a leader. Now, Sam, just put down the breakfast you'd been kind enough to bring – that I will surely devour before Dean gets a hold of it – and lay down. Bring the blanket up and close those God damn child like eyes. Sleep, guys, sleep.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Damn it, Dean, no! I was sure I had been so close to what I had already considered as a victory. I threw the blanket off of me and sat up, stretching. Standing up and padding through the shag carpeting, I threw myself on the bed behind Dean, wrapping the blanket around me as they both turned around and watched me face Sam. "You up, Becca?" No dumb ass. I just friggen poofed over here. Of course I'm up.

"Dean, Sam came walking in here like a cat with its head stuck in a box. Of course I'm up," I groaned. "But, if you guys love me, you'll just go back to sleep, or you'll whisper… or go back to sleep…" Sleep. Please just lay down, both of you, and sleep, but Dean, go lay on the couch because I call this bed now.

Receiving a smirk from Dean and bright eyes and a smile from Sam, I thought I'd won. Ah sweet, sweet, those bastards. Dean turned around and just looked at where Sam stood. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" No! Sleep, damn it!

"I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal," Sam shrugged as his eyes left my now fallen face and landed on Dean's concerned one.

"Yeah, it is," Dean and I had both spoken. He had been a little more forceful while I had been a little more croaked. Sam needed sleep right now, more than I did. He couldn't seriously find infomercials entertaining, and he looked exhausted as the purple rims started to darken beneath his eyes. There was a weariness to his face that I hadn't noticed before, and I knew he was _trying_ to stay awake.

Sam fought us though, like I'd assumed he would. Shocking that he wouldn't want to talk about something that was haunting him crazily, I mean, who doesn't want to do that? "Look, I appreciate your concern –" It's not concern. It's fear… mixed with concern. I was worried about him. How could he go on like this?

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," Dean cut over him. "It's your job to keep our asses alive, so we need you sharp." True, but that wasn't what came out of my lips.

"No, right now I need him, and you to friggen shut up and just _go back to sleep_. God, it's pointless. You aren't going to go back to sleep. I'm fighting a battle I can't even fathom winning." I flipped the blankets into the back of Dean and walked over to Sam, snatching a coffee from his hand. Chugging it hastily, which was beyond stupid because now my tongue was rough and burned, I shoved it back in his hand. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. Please just, don't… don't ruin that for me too." I stalked away and then picked up my duffel from the pile of bags before running a small hand through my hair and stumbling my way into the bathroom. Alright, my relationship with sleep was over; time to move onto my second love, the steaming hot shower.

It didn't seem like a short shower, but I knew that it was. There was hardly any steam twirling around the room as I pushed open the plastic curtain. Wringing out my hair, I grasped the towel before drying myself off. I felt better, even if the pressure had been next to nothing. It was fairly quiet in this small dirty room of things I didn't even want to consider. Stepping out of the shower and stepping in front of the sink, I stared at my face. There was a large purple bruise on the front of my forehead that overlaid on a round upraised area from where the door had connected when Dean was a jerk and messed with me back at the motel in Lake Manitoc. Then along my right cheek, there was a large, long, deep colored bruise that ran from my temple back into the abyss of thick hair that came pouring from my scalp. It hurt when I touched it, so I did my best to not make contact, but it's unavoidable. I ran my fingers across it delicately and pulled them back with a hiss. Why did I bother? I then peered down at my nails. Chipped, and broken, some ripped and most freckled with red, purple, and black spots from the blood that had run from beneath them when I dug for Peter's stupid bike. These weren't bad, not at all, but they were visual reminders meaning that case would be on my mind until they were gone. At least Lucas was talking. That was a plus. And the few sandwiches I'd snaked before Dean tore through them all were good. Dean, pssh, that guy said that Lucas really only made them for him because he was his favorite. Bite me. Getting dressed I opened the door, allowing the humidity to transfer from the tiled room to the retro mess on the other side. I began brushing my teeth when I heard Dean talking to someone that couldn't be Sam. For one, Sam wasn't responding, and two, Dean's tone was a little more professional. Not a lot, but a bit.

"…the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?" Poltergeist? What poltergeist? I spit the toothpaste into the sink and wiped my mouth before walking into the motel room whilst brushing my ratted hair.

"Who's he talking to?" I asked Sam while motioning to Dean. Sam shrugged his shoulders and bit into a pastry from his box. I just rolled my eyes at him. I swear, sometimes, for a smart guy, he's clueless. I sat beside Sam and grabbed a pastry of my own, taking in the sweet smell and then biting into the flaky crust. Ah, this is heaven! I nudged Sam playfully and smiled up at him. "Good going, Beanstalk. These are delicious." I grinned even wider as he nudged me back.

"What is it?" Dean spoke as he watched us from the opposite bed. I stood up and moved when he snapped his fingers and started motioning in the air for a pen and piece of paper. After having the paper and pen snatched from my grasp, I growled at him and continued to eat my breakfast. Dean snapped his phone shut and stood up quickly, fully stretching his body.

"Ew, Dean. Put on pants," he was wearing a tee shirt and underwear, not like it was a change from a lot of his sleeping attire, but I felt like my comment was necessary. Dean didn't seem to agree as he strutted, yes, _strutted_ over to the pile of bags and then grabbed his. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Dean then continued his strut past the beds where I'd started drinking from one of the coffees and grabbed a second pastry. He winked at me and smirked largely. "Oh, Becs, you know you think my legs are sexy." Dear God, why do I poke that ego? Sam smiled and I fought the urge to spit my coffee across the room as I choked back a laugh. Dean entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Three seconds later, it reopened and my bag went soaring through the doorway and dropped to the ground with a very dense thud, followed by my toothbrush, and towel. Like that's mature!

I waited for the shower to turn on, and quickly grabbed the box full of the breakfast pastries, shoving a few in Sam's hands and grabbing as many of my own that my small hands could hold. "Hurry Sam, either stuff those down your throat or lick them."

* * *

We were in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, a town I'd never heard of probably and wouldn't have been able to pronounce or spell if I hadn't seen it typed out on the map I had earlier. I was doing my best to keep up with Dean, Sam, and Jerry's long strides. I might need to invest in some roller skates to use from now on. Man, I'm all torso and those guys are all legs. "Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out," Jerry was speaking quickly as we worked our way past what I think were engines? Turbines maybe? Are those the same thing? I don't know, I'm not an engineer, I'm a hunter… sort of. I was trying to look at the things around me but there was just so much and everything was so big, and the guys leading the way were on a mission.

"Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?"

"_Poltergeiest_? Man, I loved that movie?" Did that really just happen? Some guy had been eavesdropping beyond slightly. I couldn't help but laugh at him, finally making eye contact with the commentator as he walked right in front of me and winked with a sly grin. I opened my mouth to make a comment of my own but Jerry's voice cut across just as I'd started saying "_I got a –_".

"Hey, nobody's talking to you! Keep walking," I had been talking to him, Jerry, but thanks for the intervention. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" Jerry had switched between talking to Dean and Sam, and the only way I could tell was because of the slight angle his head had. He wasn't a real descriptive person. I just picked up my pace and practically jogged behind them.

Sam didn't really seem to react to the college comment. We hadn't brought it up too much since he came back, and neither had he. It was kind of a touchy subject that we were just all silently agreeing to avoid. "Yeah, I was. I'm… taking some time off." That's an understatement. I didn't really see Sam _returning_ to college. This life was quickly sucking him back in and he wasn't resisting it like I'd imagined he would.

"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time," Jerry reminisced. That I knew. Sam's name came up a lot after he left, and Dad _was_ proud. I was basically the only one who'd dropped his name completely. I'd called him, yeah. A lot at first, and those were all sober calls, but as the time went on and Dad talked about him more and more with a growing admiration, the calls grew farther apart and all became very heavily drunkenly induced. What I did notice from this conversation was that Jerry was failing to mention anything about me being talked about by my father. And that stung, really bad.

"He did?" Sam was shocked, but Dean just caught my down cast eyes before slowing his pace and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Sam was keeping pace with Jerry, a little more excitement and pride in his voice.

Dean had clearly noticed my lack of presence in the story too. His face hardened and I felt a small squeeze on my shoulder. I knew my dad was proud of me, he'd told me he was. I also knew he loved me just as much as he did Sam and Dean, but he never seemed to have that pride or shine in his eye when he talked about anyone other than Sam for a while, and that made me feel like complete crap. Dean and I had been the ones to stick around and help him, and even after Dean fought to be there for Dad, it almost always seemed like he just didn't reach that bar that Sam had set for all of us when he'd escaped and started his own life. "Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing anyway?"

Clearing his throat, Dean dragged me along with him, bringing me to walk between him and Jerry in the wide line they'd created as we moved closer to the office that apparently was freaking miles away. Were they seriously trying to tell me we couldn't have just driven to the other side of the hanger? This walk seemed tedious and I feel like we could have been doing so much more work related tasks than boosting Sam's self esteem. "He's um, wrapped up in a job right now." Pssh, yeah, the case of the missing and unresponsive father.

"Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?" Fool, I'm here too! I might not be as savy with a gun or be as light on my feet as the freak but I was still pretty useful I thought…

Dean laughed and I clenched my teeth, not looking at anyone. "Well, we got Becca, too, but even together, we don't add up to him. No, not by a long shot," Sam replied. At least he remembered I was alive. Well, if no one wanted to act like I was here, then I was going to let the big boys do their thing and keep my mouth shut.

"I got something I want you guys to hear," Jerry told us as we finally reached a hallway leading towards his office. Jiminy Cricket, Jerry. You need to get your priorities straight. Fill us in on the mission, then we can chit chat about better times. Don't mix this crap up, you're wasting time and pissing me off. Finally cramming ourselves into his office, he reached over to the desk and picked up a disc. "I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley." He stuck the disc into the drive. If this is a Black Sabbath CD I'm going to be very disappointed. Highly entertained, but disappointed none the less. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2-4-8-5. It was one of ours."

Jerry hit the play button on the disc and a large static filled the air. "_Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! 2-4-8-5… immediate instruction… may be experiencing some mechanical failure…_" There was a loud whoosh that followed the pilot's voice, but to be honest, I didn't hear anything wrong with the recording. Man, maybe it's a good thing my dad didn't brag about me. If I was missing something obvious, this was embarrassing.

"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name was Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault," Jerry informed us.

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors," Sam started rattling off necessary research items. Forever a geek.

Jerry nodded his head. "All right."

"And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean questioned. Even I knew that was stretching it. This was not some outdoor case, this was a serious thing… ninety plus people had died, there was no way that this was going to be some small deal in the community or beyond.

"The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… fellas," and Becca, seriously, Jerry, "the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance." Dean matched my frown.

"No problem," he told us. No problem? Um, I don't know how he was planning on doing it, but I wasn't willing to just go into some federal thing without knowing what was going on in there.

* * *

My feet were dangling out of the open, back door of the Impala as I was lying on the leather seat. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" he was leaning on the outside of the car as we waited for Dean. He was taking forever in there and I had lost patience many moons ago and completely went from annoyed to not even giving a single care anymore.

"That disc Jerry played earlier… You hear anything strange on it?" I wanted to know if I was the only one who apparently couldn't do their job correctly.

"Nothing besides the static and loud air screaming at the end, but you heard the EVP. There was the "_no survivors"_ thing."

I nodded my head. That's true. "Right, the creepy voice of doom. Do you think anyone else heard it? Like anyone in the plane? Maybe the pilot?" I was trying to add the little bit of information we had together, and right now I wasn't getting far. Plane crash, and a creepy voice saying there were no survivors when seven people walked away. I saw a lady walk past my feet and towards the front of the car and heard her soft voice greet someone. There was a rough, deep response and I sat up, seeing Dean finally outside of the store. "You've been in there forever," I complained as I just stared at him from my spot on the seat. He smiled at us and held three freshly made IDs up.

"You can't rush perfection," he told us and I grabbed the one that had my face on it. These were really good, and he'd picked a decent photo, which I had been really worried about. According to this, I was part of Homeland Security. This was a new one. All right… I stuffed it into my jacket pocket and rolled my eyes when Sam complained.

"Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us," he said grabbing his own ID from Dean's hand.

I just sighed. "Where's your sense of adventure, Sam? Nothing is ever illegal until you get caught, and judging from my cuff free wrists, we haven't been caught yet. And trust me, I've been caught a lot, I know when things have gone south."

"Besides, Sammy, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times." Dean and Sam got into the car, putting away their IDs and getting right down to business. "All right, so, what do you got?"

"Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Sam explained.

"Yeah?"

Sam pulled up the tape he'd used to find the EVP on his computer and held it out for all of us to hear. "Listen." A scratchy voice was one of the only things you could hear. There was a low mechanical background voice and then the "_no survivors"_ that Sam and I'd heard earlier. Sam looked to Dean as though he was expecting the answer to be on the tip of his tongue.

"Now, I don't know what that voice is talking about with "no survivors" because there were seven of them… I've put everything we know together so far and," both of them were facing me as I resituated myself in the back, awaiting my answer, "dude, I got nothing. I'm friggen lost on all of it. I'm reaching out on a limb here and hoping that maybe someone heard the voice and we can go from there"

Dean nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. Take that anyone who doesn't tell stories about me. I can contribute too. Booyah. "Good." And a compliment? I'm on a roll here. "So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?" he pushed towards Sam.

"There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers." Dude, Sam, how do you know and remember all this stuff? Dean nodded as an "_mm-hmm_" passed by his mouth and I just kind of stared, both impressed and shocked. It was so fascinating to watch him. He got this confidence and smile every time he started going on about this kind of stuff and the information he knew. The guy was a sucker for this life, he just didn't know it. "Or remember flight 4-0-1?"

"Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights," Dean added.

We kind of just all stared at each other for a minute. I don't think we've ever had a more awkward silence between all of us at the same time. Dean kind of just drummed on the wheel while Sam looked down and clicked away on his keyboard absent-mindedly. Okay… "So are you guys thinking we have the same kind of thing going on now… or, what? Should we talk to some of the survivors? There's only seven, we might be able to knock all seven out within a couple days, that is if they're from here. But I suppose we could always call them or something..." I was rambling. I always ramble when I'm nervous or trying to fill in an awkward silence, which usually makes me feel nervous and self conscious. "Here, Sam, lemme see that list so I can figure out which one we can try and find first."

"I already got it. Third on the list: Max Jaffey," he tapped the name with his finger as I held the paper in my hands.

"Why him?" Dean shoved the key in the ignition and shifted out of park before pulling into the traffic that was cruising down the street.

"Well, for one, he's around here," I stated as I looked next to his name and found the address to have a local zip code. Sam continued for me.

He clicked his laptop shut and slipped it into his bag. "And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked as I folded the list of names and tucked it away to look at later when were at the motel or something and I could maybe have time to look up some stuff about the people, hopefully finding some sort of help or clue.

"Well, I spoke with his mother and she told me where to find him."

* * *

I was sitting at a table out on the lawn of the psychiatric hospital that Max Jaffey had been checked into. Dean and Sam had gone and requested a visit with him, while I said I'd find the spot we could sort of be secluded in. They were nearing now, and Max was using a cane. Man, I hope he wasn't in as much pain as he appeared to be… That would be not only depressing but extremely unfortunate considering the mental anguish this guy was dealing with on top of it. I extended a hand out to Max and stood up as he and the guys surrounded the table.

"Hmm… Mr. Joffey –" Dean wasn't even right with this guy's name. How are we supposed to appear professional if you can't even remember a simple name.

"Jaffey," I seethed in his ear, the smile never leaving my face.

"Jaffey," he quickly corrected. "You checked yourself in here, right?" Max nodded in response. So he didn't even trust himself with what happened on that flight. I know this sounds probably really bad, but I was sincerely hoping he'd heard that voice. "Can I ask why?"

Max seemed angry now. "I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash."

I leaned forward in my seat, sympathy burning in my eyes. "Is that what terrified you, Mr. Jaffey? Is that why you checked in here… because of the crash and not because of something else, maybe a voice or a some strange thing you are trying to convince yourself you didn't see? Is the crash really what you were afraid of?" I know the guys had probably interrogated him about what he'd seen, but I also knew they could be a little brutal when it came to sympathy. Well, Dean could anyway, and he was usually the one that matched me with impatience and got run over by his own thoughts and then fed into the rising anger.

"I… I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max could hardly keep eye contact with me. Bingo.

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We just need to know what, it's okay Max. Really. We're not here to diagnose you or judge you like these doctors are. We just need all sides of the story so that we can find out the answers to why this plane went down… Can you just tell me what you saw?" Okay, why was it like seventy times easier to talk to Max with a sympathetic demeanor but not when I talked to Haley or Andrea? Maybe I'd been hanging around with Sam too much, he is pretty chick flick…

"No," Max's tone was defiant. "No, I was… delusional. Seeing things."

Dean's snarky remark and bitter tone caused me to jab my heel into the top of his boot. His steel toed boot that probably hurt me more than I hurt him, but I think the impact was there either way. "He was seeing things."

"It's okay. Then just tell us what you _thought_ you saw, please." Yeah, Sam was definitely better at this then I was. Max opened up to him no problem!

"There was… this… man. And, uh, he had these… eyes… theses, uh… black eyes. And I saw him… or I _thought_ saw him…" Black eyes? Something with black eyes opened that door of the plane? I began running through every monster I could think of.

Dean was pressing now, anxious for the response. "What?"

"He opened the emergency exit. But that's… that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."

"Yeah," Dean and I both responded. Both of our voices were distant and I knew that we were thinking about what Max had told us and mentally visualizing the ability of that door being swung open in the air and what could have possibly done it.

"This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would be something like a mirage?" Sam was asking.

"What are you, nuts?" Max looked at Sam judgmentally, and I could see him taken aback when Sam's head tipped as though he was actually considering the possibility that he was indeed nuts. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."

* * *

We pulled up to the front of a huge house. "So here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C." We'd checked the seating chart and found George's information from his passenger manifest. He didn't make it, but apparently, from what we'd gathered from Max Jaffey, this was definitely the guy who freakishly opened the practically impossible to open door.

"Hmm. Man, I don't care how strong you are," Dean spoke as we left the car and started up the walk. "Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way can you open up an emergency door during a flight."

"Well, not if you're _human_," I told them. "Max said this thing had black eyes though, and even if you're full of shit or as evil as can be, I don't think you could have black eyes and be human. It just doesn't make sense."

Sam supported my thought further. "And maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of _creature_, maybe, in human form." I didn't miss the look he gave me when he had enunciated "_creature_". I felt that that argument may never go away now. At least he didn't say "_corporeal_".

"Does that look like a creature's lair to you?" I eyed the house. Well, if he was Batman or something, yeah. Maybe he has some sort of lair tucked away in his basement complete with super awesome vehicle. Except Batman doesn't have black eyes, a black eye mask, but not black eyes.

I sighed and continued up the walk with them, none of us really sure what we were in for when that door opened. Sam tapped the brass knocker against its base and we waited until a woman opened up and we flashed our badges her way. Sitting next to Dean, I watched as Sam picked up a photo. "Is this your late husband?" he asked her.

"Yes, that was my George."

"And you said he was a… dentist?" Dean pressed.

This guy didn't seem too scary from everything she'd told us thus far, in fact, he took me a bit as a pathetic dweeb. "Mm-hmm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…" He was scared to fly? Huh… Okay, new piece to my slowly forming puzzle. Voice of incorrect death assumption, destroyed plane, black eyes, and a fear of flying… Was it just me or was this getting _harder _to figure out as we went on?

"So, how long were you two married?" I leaned forward and caught her gaze.

"Thirteen years."

"In all that time, did you ever notice anything…" how could I ask this without saying "_super freaking weird like, the fact that he had Hulk-like strength and black eyes and is the reason that so many people died on that plane"_ like I wanted to?

Luckily, Sam picked up where I left off, "…strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?"

"Well… uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean," Mrs. Phelps answered, clearly not understanding what we meant. Yeah, lady. That's what we meant, weird as in a bubble gut and chest pain.

Leaving the house I waited until the door shut behind us and we were half way down the walk. ""_Uh, he had acid re-flux if that's what you mean_"," I mocked her voice with a scoff. "Was she serious? Man, that couple was made for each other. She's clueless and her husband was a total "_neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie_"!" I was speaking quickly and animatedly like I often did at moments like this. "This is not making _any_ sense, you guys. None! We're supposed to be getting closer to the answer and now all we have is that this, this… this, _dentist_," the word came out with hate, "who is afraid to fly, clearly _not_ able to even lift a twenty pound weight, but can open the door because his black eyes gave him super human strength or something?"

"Yeah, I mean, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage," Dean seemed almost eager to get to use his new fake ID. I grinned at him.

"Serious? Let's go, right now," I moved to go to the car but Sam's hand wrapped around my arm and stopped me.

"Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we're better look the part," he told us, causing us both to groan. This is going to involve shopping, which involves having to try on tons of clothes, which just sucks total everything. I followed them to the car, hoping to get it over with quickly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine.**

**Oh man, those numbers keep climbing and my smile keeps growing. Thank you so, so, so much! I got this chapter out tonight specifically for you all.**

**Extra thanks to those who have reviewed and PMed me. You have been so supportive and helpful and really kind with all your answers to the multitude of questions I've thrown at you. You really are too kind!**

**Just so you know, I used the almighty knowing _Wikipedia_ for my demon possession information. If you want an exact address, let me know, I can provide it.**

**Okay, so please READ, REVIEW, and ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer!**  
**Songs : _Working Man_ - Rush, _Some Kind of Monster_ - Metallica. If I forgot one, pretend I didn't and add it to the list.**

* * *

"Ow, ow! Check out the penguins!" I yelled as I walked towards Dean and Sam who were standing outside of the suit shop they'd been in for friggen ever. Sam said we were going to have to go all out with this Homeland Security thing, and that meant fresh new threads. I currently was striding over in a charcoal grey pants suit and teal blouse, of course unbuttoned a few. Shirts get tight and boobs gotta breathe, am I right? Anyway, Dean just scoffed and held up a hand in my direction, a clearly upset expression on his face.

"See? I told you we look ridiculous," he whined to Sam who just shot me a look.

"Dean, you can't listen to Becca," Sam responded as I stopped next to them. "She's wearing pants instead of a skirt. She basically cheated."

I pulled on the bottom of my form fitting jacket and slapped my twin in the chest. "Shut up, Sam, I didn't cheat. You don't know what you're talking about." I kept trying to readjust my arms in the sleeves. This thing felt tight over the shoulders and I was already dying to get out of it. "If you really think one of us should be wearing a skirt, go right ahead and buy yourself one." I hate skirts. Their practically impossible to run in, you have sit all bent up and uncomfortable, and it was hard to tackle someone to the ground when you have your butt hanging out and your underwear is showing to the world. Pants were logical, pants were safe, and I loved pants.

"I hate this thing," I heard Dean grumble as he adjusted his own arm in his jacket as he stopped the back and forth comments.

"Hey. You want into that warehouse or not?" Sam bit as we climbed into the car and pulled away from the curb.

Sam and I had gone back and forth with the remarks the entire ride to the warehouse, even when Dean had turned up the radio repeatedly and yelled for us to stop. We'd both ignored his threats and kept going, a smile on our faces the whole time.

"Face it, Becs. People are going to stop remembering you're a girl and just gonna start assuming you're a guy. You don't act like a girl, you don't really look like a girl…" Sam was still going as we walked to the door of the warehouse.

"Oh please. These," I grabbed my chest and pushed my boobs up while squeezing, "scream girl. There are no "moobs" in the world that can rival what I have got here. You can't deny it."

Dean was at the door and spun around, rolling his eyes at me after being taken aback by the site in front of him. "Jesus, Becca, stop touching yourself. Now, we gotta act like real feds in there, so pull your crap together. Got it?"

Sam and I nodded. Man, Dean was getting way too into this. Buy the guy a suit and he thinks he's got some sort of high position in the world. Way to play into the role, Dean. He turned around and huffed before reaching forward and opening the door. We walked up to the security guard and flashed him our badges. I don't know if he looked at my badge or not, but from his gaze, he for sure thought that my chest was womanly. Sam's narrowed eyes and slack jaw seemed to indicate he'd noticed too. What's that Sammy? You gotta own up to having a little sister again? Oh stop clenching your fist, you giant weirdo. Stepping through the buzzing doorway, I saw the plane wreck. Holy Hannah, this thing was crazy destroyed. Pieces laid all over and There was like this black grid thing on the floor that was covered in white lines, showing where things _should_ have been. It didn't even look like a plane any more. It looked like some weird… mess! It is so hard to tell you exactly what it looked like, it was _that_ bad. I saw Dean pull out his homemade EMF meter and stick the buds in his ears. I had been super impressed when he'd shown it to me after first making it. It was impressive for a guy who doesn't know really anything about that kind of stuff. I told him I wanted one too, but he just grinned and said that "_only the real hunters_" can have them.

"What is that?" Sam questioned, indicating to Walkman Dean had running along the side of the wreck as he moved ahead of us.

"Uh, it's an EMF meter. You know, it reads electromagnetic frequencies," I made a few sounds trying to mimic the scratches that always came out of them. "Electromagnetic frequencies are when -" I spoke slowly and made sure to enunciate all of my sounds before he cut me off. How long was this guy gone for again? Surely he didn't just _forget _what an EMF was?

I saw from the roll in his eyes, telling me that apparently I didn't answer the question correctly. Oh, forgive me, Mr. Boy Wonder. "Yeah… I _know_ what an EMF meter is," are you sure? "But why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?"

Dean must have been listening because he turned around, a large grin splayed across his face. "'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade." I smiled with him, it was contagious. He was so proud of himself, you couldn't help but feel just as excited. It was like he was a little kid who just won _Candy Land_.

"Yeah, I can see that," Damn it, Sam. Why are you such a freaking buzz kill? I stomped on his foot after Dean had turned back around, the smile completely wiped off his face. I watched as he began running the EMF over the plane once more.

"Way to go, Sam," I seethed, only to receive eyes of confusion. Friggen moron.

Dean was ahead of us, getting a spike so loud in the EMF that I could hear it from where I was a few feet away. He scratched at the door and pulled his hand back, staring at something. "Check out the emergency door handle. What is this stuff?"

I stepped forward. There was a yellow, dusty, powder thing lying on the handle that stuck out in front of us. I didn't recognize this at all. "Only one way to find out," I had just stuck a finger into the dust and pulled it up to tap it with the tip of my tongue when Sam smacked my hand like I was some kind of child. I narrowed my eyes at him when he just bent over and scraped some of it into a plastic dish. Who was this guy? Oh, so when people wanna find out what the white substance in the bag is they can taste it, but I try to taste the yellow crud and I get beaten like a fly. I was going to say something when I could hear the buzzing door swing open with a bang and feet hitting the floor with quick momentum. "Um, run, run, run, run, things are south, way south, deep south, go, go, go!" I pushed Sam and Dean ahead of me. We made it out through the back door, and they slowed down. I was just about to sigh of relief as a small smile tugged at my lips, only to disappear when a loud alarm sounded throughout the entire vicinity. We took off once more, and came to face a gate. Dean threw his jacket over the barbed wire at the top, and we all quickly climbed over it, Dean grabbing it once more as we landed on our feet on the other side.

"Well, these monkey suits do come in handy," he joked as we continued running towards the waiting Impala.

Throwing myself into the seat as we sped away, I clapped Sam on the shoulder, all of us panting. "And that," I spoke between breaths as I pulled the jacket off, "is why I _don't_ wear skirts…"

* * *

I was walking back down the hall towards Jerry's office on my way from the bathroom. The _Poltergeist_ guy was there and I'd smiled, giving him a small wave. He started walking over to me, a smile on his face when someone started backing up some fork lift. I was pushing out my chest and batting my eyelashes as I began closing the distance between us, about to speak when suddenly the fork lift came barreling from the side of the ware house, its horn going crazy, just missing the guy completely. I mean, I seriously thought he was about become a flat mess on the floor. The guy jumped back and yelled, "You effin' piece of crap!" I watched as he grabbed a wrench from a nearby tool box and took off after the fork lift operator.

I was swiftly stepping backwards when Jerry's door flew open behind me, and he came running out. Metallic clings were ringing through the air and my eyes went wide with surprise. "Hey, Einstein! Yeah, you! What the heck you doing? Put the wrench down –"

I closed the door quickly, cutting off the rest of Jerry's words and leaned against it, meeting completely upraised brows and wide eyes. "Um, if Jerry asks, I definitely didn't wave to a guy that almost got run over by a forklift."

"Do I want know?" Dean gruffly asked.

"Not even a little bit."

Dean rolled his eyes and bent back down to look at whatever was on the telescope. "You know," he met my eyes once more before sighing and shaking his head. Please, like you've never created problems in the world while you attempt to hit on someone. He just continued, eyeing Sam now, "there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue."

"Nothing that I know of, except demonic possession," I finally stepped away from the door, coming to stand next to Sam as he clearly tried to run through the list of things in his mind that could have left this powder. "And, I mean, that could explain how a _mortal_ man would have the crazy Hulk-strength that was necessary to open up the emergency hatch while being in the air."

"If the guy was possessed, it's possible," Sam added to Dean.

Dean nodded his head. "This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?"

"You ever heard of something like this before?" Sam was eyeing both of us with hope.

I shook my head while Dean answered "_never_" in a disbelieving tone.

* * *

God, this place was a mess. We looked like crazy stalker murder freaks or something. Open books were stacked on _more_ open books, there were drawings, photos, video clips, notes, probably some of Dean's porn collection, printed up articles and torn book pages taped all over the walls and strewn across the bed. You'd think that'd be enough! No, Sam was _still_ looking up more on his laptop. This kid just couldn't quit! I'd gotten a headache hours ago from just trying to figure out where to start. Right now? Oh, right now I was staring at something about demonic possession. I shifted the papers that were lying on my lap as I sat on a chair, and a new article appeared next. Cool. I looked at the first line of the paragraph, already feeling the burn of my dry eyes telling me that this was not a good idea. I leaned forward, and rubbed my hands over my very tired face. "So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right?"

"Tell me about it," I groaned from behind my hands. "If I have to read one more bible story from the book of Matthew or Acts about demons I'm going to go insane. But yes, there's demons being mentioned in practically everything… Christianity, Native American, Hindu, Wicca… I think I saw something about them even being compared to vampires…" I looked up at Sam with tired eyes.

"Yeah, well I haven't seen anything describing anything like this," Dean said as he glanced at the papers on the bed across from him.

Sam turned, that :_I actually have information about the subject at hand and now I am going to tell you all about it whether or not you want to hear about it"_ look on his face. "Well, that's not exactly true. You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."

Dean didn't seem to buy it. "And this one causes plane crashes?" He got up and rubbed his own face as I started reading the new article. "All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"

"Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?" I saw the words on the paper, but I wasn't actually comprehending anything it was telling me and the print seemed to move and create a big ball of black annoyance. _"…drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength. Unlike in channeling…"_ I heard Dean snort, and I rolled my eyes. Here we go. Tell Sam how wrong he is and start some argument that isn't going to help anything. "What?"

"I don't know man." "_…drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength. Unlike in channeling…_" Wait. Didn't I just read that? I need coffee… I blinked a few times, trying to get the paper to stop moving in my vision as Dean continued his rant. "This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here."

"_…drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength. Unlike in channeling…_" Okay, this is getting bad. I swear I read that sentence already. I threw the papers on the floor and went to the bathroom when Sam said "Yeah. Me too." Dean's phone started ringing, and I filled the sink with water. "_…drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure…"_ Splashing water on my face, I frowned as I saw the words brightly etched into the underside of my lids. I should not be this stressed out by research. How in the world did people do this before a test? Right now all I wanted to do was gouge out my eyes and sleep. I had a pounding headache, and a deep dislike for this research. "_…the sudden appearance of injuries or lesions, and superhuman strength…"_ Hang on. What? I quickly threw down the towel that had been absorbing the droplets of water off my skin, and threw myself to the ground, picking up the paper that I'd discarded but not finished. There it was. "..._and superhuman strength."_.

"Dude!" I yelled as Dean just glared at me and then whipped one of Sam's pens at my head. "Sam, I've got something. Right here. Serious, it totally fits!" I was excited now. Getting up and walking to the center of the room, he met me. "Look, it's from that stupid article. "_drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure;" _wouldn't that fit with George getting over his fear like that? I don't really see a guy that's afraid to fly willing to be walking around the plane, if it was me, I'd want to be in my seat with the belt wrapped tight around me. And see, it goes on_ "the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength."_ Superhuman strength, Sam! That's how he opened the door! This _was_ a demonic possession!" I beamed up at Sam and he really seemed impressed. I did it! I figured it out! He smiled at me and took the paper before going over to where he had some notes and Dad's journal, comparing it to both. "Dean! I got it!" I announced as he clicked his phone shut.

He didn't respond, he just balanced his phone in his pocket. "We gotta go, there was another crash in Nazareth." Well that's unfortunate… again. Sam grabbed the paper I'd been showing him my findings on, along with his notes and Dad's journal and we all walked out of the door.

* * *

We were in Jerry's office again, and I was slowly spinning around in a chair. We'd gathered some yellow powder from the flight in Nazareth where I made Sam and Dean take a moment of silence before we did anything. You don't sing _Hair of the Dog_ and not get a moment. Jerry was looking at the substance in his telescope and we were just waiting for him to tell us what is was when Dean's impatience jumped the gun. "Sulfur?" he guessed. I stopped spinning and saw Jerry nod. "Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him." Sweet, well not sweet that Chuck died, but sweet that if it was after Chuck, it got him. Boom, case closed, let's get tacos.

"With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news." Leave it to Debbie Downer over there to keep a case rolling. Well, there was no denying that we were twins. I'd pushed the case last time, I guess it was his turn now.

"All right, Sam, so what's the bad news?" I leaned forward, honestly curious.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2-4-8-5," he answered. Huh, I didn't know that. This is sharing information, Sam. No more hiding big pieces of the puzzle!

Jerry didn't seem to understand. "Forty minutes? What does that mean?"

Dean and I caught eyes before I sighed and slowly started spinning in my chair again. "It's biblical numerology," Dean told him.

"Biblical numerology?" Jerry raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You know, Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death," Dean added.

I continued spinning, looking down at my feet. "Well, it represents a time of testing, too, Dean. I mean, Jesus was tempted for forty days. The disciples saw Jesus for forty days after he was resurrected. Moses had a lot of periods of time that were revolved around the number forty and then there's, what?" I stopped spinning. Everyone's eyes were glued to my face, and none of them seemed anything else than shocked. "Hey, Sam's not the only one that can research you know!" Sam smirked, and had the twinkle of pride in his eyes that I hadn't seen directed at me in a really long time.

"Anyway, I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in." Thank God Sam spoke. I didn't know how much more of the staring I could endure.

"Any survivors?" Dean asked.

"No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2-4-8-5, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP?"

"Yeah, it said "_No survivors"_. But why does that make a difference?" I pushed.

We all thought about it as the clock ticked loudly in the corner. "It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job." Crap.

* * *

"Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey. And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks," Sam ended the phone call he'd been making. He turned to me where I waited, marker ready to cross out the names on my list. "All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon."

I smiled. Good. At least five people would be alive in the morning. "Okay. Well, that leaves Amanda Walker. And guess what, she's a flight attendant. I swear you guys. Sometimes I think these monsters know they're screwing up our cases and that they do it on purpose just to give us a crap time. I mean, come on. She just had to be a flight attendant, didn't she?" I clicked my marker cap back on, finding I'd accidentally gotten black ink on my hand. My eyes widened. I glanced down beside me to find a shiny, black, round spot, about the size of a quarter staining Dean's leather interior. Oh my God, I'm gonna die. "Psst, Sam," I whispered as Dean continued to drive and just started talking.

"Right. Her sister…" I stopped listening. Sam turned slightly in my direction, pretending to listen to whatever Dean was saying. "…leaves Indianapolis…" He raised his eyebrows, a silent "_what_" heading my way. "_Dude_!" I mouthed while I pointed to the spot on the seat next to me and his eyes widened and his face fell. He knew it too then. I was for sure dying. "…first night…" Sam reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water, handing it to me along with a handkerchief. "Are you guys even listening?" Dean was turning and saw me hard at work on the stain.

"What? Yeah, first night back on the job," Sam sputtered. Oh, nice save! Remind me I owe this kid.

I was busy scrubbing away, the ink still being fairly fresh. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I'd gotten most of it off. Dean was eyeing me in the rear-view. "What are you doing, Bec?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, just uh, you know, um, counting… ducks," I continued scrubbing. I couldn't meet his eyes. If I met his eyes, he'd know, he'd just know! _Counting ducks_? Man, I can create a lie no problem in front of police. Put me up against my big brother and I start counting ducks? What the hell?

I felt the car slow down and then the slow rumble as Dean pulled off to the side of the road. Crap! I scrubbed harder, my palm touching the leather and accidentally applying more ink as I tried to remove the stuff I'd already put on it. I froze. "Ducks, Becca? I mean who says…" I tuned him out as I began to frantically try and now remove two spots that could potentially lead to my body going missing. If you start seeing posters of my face, you know who did it. Call Sam, and tell him what you know. I heard snaps in my ear and I spun my head quickly. "Hey, Becs, you okay back there?" Dean was turning around now. I threw the handkerchief over the spots.

"Dean, I'm fine, promise."

"What's on your hand?" Huh? Crap! I'd just run my hand through my hair. My hand that had a black ink spot on it. I pulled my hand down, and looked at it. I then looked at Sam. He looked just as terrified as I felt.

I lowered my hand, resting it on the handkerchief and slowly trying to continue rubbing out the stain as I threw my "_I'm super innocent and you want to forgive me"_ smile on my face that actually looked more like, "_I'm really guilty and you shouldn't trust a single thing I say or do next_". There's only three people who really know what that face is… Guess who. Dean leaned over the seat and grabbed my hand, along with the handkerchief. I've never seen his face turn so purple. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!"

"Um…"

"Dean, come on. It's just marker. It will come out," Sam tried defending me.

I didn't know what was happening and started slapping Dean's hand as it reached towards my pants and pulled the marker out of my pocket. He held it up, reading the label. Yep, it's a _Sharpie_. "It's _permanent_ marker, Sammy. Permanent! I swear to God, Becca, if that crap doesn't come out, so help me –" he was super pissed right now.

"Dean!" I tried to smile but I think it was probably more of a freaked out mouth-gap thing. "I've almost got it, uh, see?" I showed him. It really was smaller. He pushed me to the side, and leaned across me, essentially pinning me down. "Get off me you overgrown ape!"

Dean dumped water on the handkerchief and started rubbing vigorously at the stain, not stopping until I fell on the floor between the seats from the consistent movements. He pulled back and we all gaped at it. The spot was super shiny and completely clean. I think I felt my soul sigh with relief inside me. I pulled myself back onto the seat, shooting Dean a sheepish grin. "You're lucky," he spat as he dropped the water bottle beside me and threw the handkerchief in my face. "Get that crap off your hand and don't touch anything. Nothing, not even the seat."

"What am I supposed to do? Just hover here or something?" I bit as I began scrubbing at the ink on my hand, it coming off way easier than the stuff on the leather did.

"You better figure something out, Becs," he shifted the car and pulled back onto the road while I rolled my eyes in the rear-view. "Back to business," he spoke gruffly as we accelerated to the limit Dean created for himself. "So this chick's sister, Karen, said that Amanda leaves Indianapolis, _tonight_," he jabbed a finger into the wheel as he spoke. "That sounds just like our luck."

I looked at him, continuing to scrub at my hand. Okay, so maybe this _wasn't_ easier than the seat had been. "Dean –" I stopped when he shot me a glare. All right… Guess I should just sit here until he calmed down a bit more.

"Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel," Sam sighed trying to break the awkward tension that was only stemming off the driver.

_Well I get up at seven, yeah. And I go to work at nine. I got no time for livin' yeah. I'm working all the time..._

"Just call Amanda's cell phone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass." Dean's voice was quiet and low, and I saw him eyeing me in the rear-view.

"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cell phone off…" Dean just accelerated as Sam spoke. "God, we're never gonna make it."

"We'll make it," Dean argued as he sped past another car.

* * *

I was standing below the departure board, staring at all the names. Why do so many planes fly at once? Come on now! I pointed my finger in the air, running down the menu, trying to find the one I knew Amanda would be on. "Come on, they board in thirty minutes," I'd finally found it as Sam and Dean appeared. "Let's go!" I started taking off towards the gate when Dean's voice stopped me.

"Wait, Becs, we still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." What? A phone, if we just go to the gate _now_ we might be able to stop her. Ugh. I trudged behind them to where a bank of phones was sitting. I leaned against the pole beside me and pulled my previously inked hand out of the pocket I'd stuck it in for four and a half hours of our five hour journey. It was bright pink and still had a faint purple hue to it where the black had been.

"Hi. Gate 13. I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um, flight 4-2-4."

"_AMANDA WALKER, AMANDA WALKER, YOU HAVE A PHONE CALL. WHITE COURTESY PHONE, GATE 13._" Sounded throughout the entire airport. Now that was cool. I picked at my hand while Dean spoke to Amanda. Sam came in front of me and tapped the toe of his shoe against mine.

I looked up and saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Your hand clean?"

I held it up for him to see. "Dude, I almost died back there. He would have like, buried me right there on the side of the highway."

"Nah, I wouldn't have let him," Sam teased as he leaned around the corner of the pole so that my shoulder was pressed up against the middle of his upper arm.

"Or it would have been a double homicide. Either way, you would have gone down a fighter," I joked.

Sam and I were silent, ignoring Dean like I normally did, when he nudged me. "He'll get over it," he assured me. I huffed and stuck my hands back into my pockets.

"Yeah, I know. I was careless though. I should have been careful; I know how much that car means to him."

"It was an accident, Becca. He can't seriously have been that pissed off at an accident." Dude, two years clearly clouded your memory of Dean. Of course he could be that pissed off at an accident. He was _always_ that pissed off at an accident.

I just shifted my weight against the pole. "I don't know, man." Dean slammed the receiver onto the cradle and turned to us with a fallen expression. "So, she listened to what you had to say and is quitting her job, um, now?"

He shook his head and I groaned. "It's fine," Sam told me. "We just gotta do plan B. We gotta get on that plane." All right, let's go! I pushed off the pole and started following as Sam had begun to make his way towards the gate.

"Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second," Dean had grabbed the back of my jacket, pulling me back with a stumble and had to catch me before I collided with the ground.

Sam turned, confused and growing impatient. "Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is going to crash."

"I know," Dean answered.

"Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You guys get whatever you can get out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes," Sam ordered. I looked at Dean. He looked terrified and that's when I remembered he was deathly afraid to fly. I sympathized with him, looking to Sam with a frown. "Are you okay?" he indicated to Dean.

Dean shook his head, shifting in his spot like a small kid who was being scolded. "Uh, um..."

"What's wrong with him?" Sam turned to me.

"He has this problem… with flying. He's kind of terrified of it. Maybe we should just run over there and see if we can get her before she takes off. Come on, let's move," I walked forward a few steps, Dean right behind me until Sam stepped in our path.

He was looking down at me, completely annoyed and flabbergasted. "You're joking, right?"

Dean spoke up from beside me. "Do I look like we're joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"

"All right… Uh… I'll go."

"What?" Dean and I blinked back the slap in the face those words had created.

"I'll do this one on my own," Sam spoke with more confidence. Uh, no, crazy. We're a team. We do this together or we don't do this at all. Besides, we're only like ninety-four percent sure that this is a demon. We're still kind of going in half cocked here. That six percent could be a lot if this wasn't a demon. That six percent could get Sam killed if he didn't have the right equipment or backup.

Dean was gaining his bite back as he argued with Sam. "What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash." Well, yeah, there's that, too.

"Dean, we can do this together as a team, or I can do this one by myself. I'm not seeing a third option, here." Uh, I am pretty sure I'd given a third option like two minutes ago. What happened to the idea that we get to the plane before it takes off? I'm sure we could come up with some sort of story before then.

"Come on! Really? Man…" Dean sighed and started for the main doors leading to where the Impala was parked, his shoulders hunched and a low mumbling of many words that the mother who covered her daughter's ears clearly didn't want to hear. This was further proven by her smacking him with an evil glare and her purse as he passed.

* * *

I was settled in nicely between Sam and the window of the plane, Dean sitting on the aisle. He said that he couldn't sit where I was because he didn't want to see the ground before he crashed into it. I peaked past Sam and saw the safety card trembling in Dean's hand. I chuckled, but I felt bad for doing it. I knew about fear, oh did I know about fear. Do I need to bring up the wendigo case? Because I won't… We will _not_ be reliving that anytime soon. But I kind of have to admit. It was pretty funny to see Dean trying to remain so tough while he was clearly freaking the hell out.

"Just try to relax," Sam suggested as he leaned back in his chair, way more relaxed than Dean.

"Just try to shut up," I heard Dean snap back. I laughed audibly, trying not to as Sam and Dean both shot me looks that probably could have and should have killed me. Much to Dean's satisfaction though, the plane started moving and I jumped higher than he did. Great. Now I gotta live that down, too. When the plane finally evened out in the air, I scrunched up my eyes. What was that low hum? That couldn't be part of the plane. I recognized the beat of that hum… I tried to place the words… _this is the face that I'll never change. This is the fist that grinds you down_. You've got to be kidding me.

I nudged Sam and smiled when he looked down at me. "He's humming Metallica," I informed him in a whisper.

"What?" Sam stopped talking and we listened. That was for sure Metallica. "No he's not."

"Sam, trust me. That is Metallica." I waited a second and allowed the humming to continue. "Right there, _…these are the lips that taste no freedom, this is the feel that's not safe, this is the face you'll never change_?" I spoke-sang the words along with Dean's hums. "That's _Some Kind of Monster_, Sam. I guarantee it."

Sam just rolled his eyes and leaned over. "Are you humming Metallica?" Sam sighed, clearly not believing what I'd told him.

"Calms me down," I heard Dean respond. Told you, Sam. I freaking know my music.

"Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused," Sam was a bit too stern for my liking. You try staying focused when you're up against a huge fear of yours. It's not very easy to do. You can't help but keep telling yourself that you could die and it's because of the fear you have.

Dean didn't seem convinced. I saw he had his eyes closed and was leaning back, white knuckling the arm rests. "Okay," he agreed to Sam's words, completely unconvincingly.

"I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism." Please, Sam, lay it on the line for us. Nothing like having a time limit and a freaked out brother on your hands.

"Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy," I sarcastically replied as I stared at the lights that were shining from the dark ground below.

Sam huffed and glared at me, turning back to Dean. "Ignore her. Just take it one step at a time, all right? Now, who is it possessing?"

Dean relaxed a little from the conversation. "Um… It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress." Um, Dean is full of emotional distress right now. Crap.

I leaned forward and over Sam, making sure that Dean could hear my voice and see my large eyes that were trying to tell him that it'd be okay and if he needed to freak out on someone, I was here. It was the least I could do for the marks I'd made in the Impala. "Well, this _is_ Amanda's first flight after the crash. If _I_ were her, I'd be pretty messed up." Dean caught my eyes and I thought I saw a small upward curve on his mouth.

He hummed an agreement and stopped the passing flight attendant. "Excuse me. Are you Amanda?"

"No, I'm not," she grinned that fake grin that all flight attendants had. As if we'd be that easy to have the first girl we find be Amanda.

"Oh, my mistake," I seriously think I could hear the frown on his face and the lowered eyes he had. The flight attendant nodded and continued up to the front of the plane. I leaned back as Dean leaned around in his seat and faced the back of the cabin. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and uh, I'll get a read on her mental state." Good thinking. Get your mind off the fact that we're flying.

Sam was quick to respond. "What if she's already possessed?"

Dean put a smaller version of his shit eating grin on his worried face. "There's ways to test that." He reached into his bag that was stuffed under the seat and pulled out a bottle that was shaped like the Virgin Mary. Leave it to my brother for subtly. "I brought holy water."

I nodded, fully accepting this. Squirt her. If she fizzles, she's evil. If she freaks out because some weirdo squirted her with water, she's human. "No," Sam bit and grabbed the bottle, quickly tucking it into his hoodie. Damn, Sam. It's holy water, not a can of mace or something. Chill the eff out. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."

I considered this along with Dean. I guess that would work… "Oh. Nice," I heard Dean answer. He turned and started down the aisle.

My eyes practically bugged out of my head as I threw myself across Sam's lap so that just my head was sticking out in the aisle past Dean's seat. "Hey!" I yelled in a whispered tone, bringing some neighboring eyes to land on me.

"What?" he spun around and got confused when he had to look down to see my head.

"Say it in Latin."

"I know."

He rolled his eyes, starting for the back of the plane once more.

"Okay…" I started to crawl back to my seat when another idea hit me. I flew forward once more. "Hey!"

Dean was annoyed now. "What?!" he seethed as more people were paying attention to our random conversation.

"In Latin, it's "_Christo"_."

"Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!" he spun so quick, I thought he'd fall. Oh I had to, just for good measure.

"Hey!"

"Damn it, Becca," his voice was louder than it should have been and an older woman shushed him with angry eyes.

I smiled and nodded. "Good luck." I thought he'd fly down the aisle and attack me, but I felt a strong pull from the back of my shirt and Sam threw me back into my seat beside the window, a grimace on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten.**

**I cannot believe how high the numbers have gotten. Thank you so much!**

**For this chapter, it's a tad shorter than what the last few have been. I didn't really see a whole lot of opportunity to add in additional story line or anything, especially because of the whole "forty minute" time frame. It didn't seem like I could really add and still have everything flow. However, I hope you like it. I'm starting/working on Chapter Eleven as you read this!**

**Extra thanks to the reviewers, PMers, and list adders!**

**READ, REVIEW, ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer. :)**

* * *

I was tapping my finger on the hard plastic of the armrest. It sounded a lot like the song Dean had been humming. It was stuck in my head, and I was annoyed by it because I was growing impatient. Dean had disappeared behind the corner of the galley kitchen thing and time was running out. I hadn't heard screaming, or a cry for help, so I was curious as to _what_ exactly was going on back there. I turned in my seat again, trying to peer over the many heads that led the way to where I could see the edge of his arm past the doorway. I huffed and turned forward again, drumming harder on the plastic. Sam smiled next to me as he flipped through Dad's journal. "Relax. You're gonna throw your back out if you keep spinning like that."

"What is _taking_ so long?" I looked to the back of the plane again. "He better not be trying to get a date out of her." Sam rolled his eyes while flipping a page. "Okay, so what have you got going on here, find anything?"

He shook his head and pressed his lips. "Not yet. There's this one here," he turned back a few pages to show me, "but I don't think that it will work. It just expels the demon… We're gonna need something a little more drastic. If we just make it leave one body, it's gonna be on a mission to find another one before the forty minutes is up."

"Sam, you know, um… earlier Dean said that it usually goes to a host with some sort of emotional issue, right? Like a mental… what'd he call it? "_A chink in the armor" _or whatever? Dean is pretty mentally available right now with that fear. If he keeps freaking out, it could latch onto him. I don't think I'd be able to attack him then; I can hardly bring the guy down now. If he goes Hulkified on us, that's gonna be a battle."

He eyed me, going back to his current page on the journal. "I know. That's why we've got to get rid of the demon. Get it out of here completely. Dad's bound to have something in here."

"And Dean?"

He puffed out his cheeks and blew the air while shrugging his shoulders. "We're gonna have to get him to relax." Yeah, that's super easy. I sighed and just slouched in my seat after turning back to peak towards Dean once more before groaning and facing the seat in front of me when I didn't see him coming back.

"All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," Dean was finally back, and I was completely perked up, expecting better news.

I was practically hovering in the air as I turned to face him, only half of me still residing on the chair and leaning against the window. "You said God?"

"Yes."

"In Latin?"

"Yes, Becca," he rolled his eyes and threw himself into the seat.

There was a moment of silence while I eyed them both like an anxious child. Sam was mouthing the words he was reading. He'd been lingering on that page for a while now. Dean closed his eyes. "Christo?" I chanced.

I received a glare from both of them. "There's no demon in her. There's no demon _getting _into her." Dean growled after leaning back in his seat, trying to calm down.

"So if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere," Sam told us.

I eyed Dean skeptically. I'd just said "_Christo_" so it couldn't have been him… That was good. "Awesome," I sighed. We hit a patch of something that made the entire plane shake, and me fall into the seat in front of me, receiving a complaint from the guy in it. I looked over at Dean who was white knuckling the arm rests once more, his eyes squeezed shut so tight they were just wrinkled spots on his face.

"Come on! That can't be normal!" he practically bellowed through the rattling and bouncing.

"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," Sam tried to assure him.

"Right, like hitting rumble strips in the road when you drive the Impala. Just think of it being like that," I added.

Dean glared at us. Apparently my trying to have him connect his fear with his favorite thing wasn't going as well as I'd assumed it would. "This plane is going to _crash_, okay?" the flight attendant had been passing, and Dean made sure to whisper the sentence. I don't know how he did it, but it was still menacing. "So quit treating me like I'm friggen four." Well, he was acting like a four year old! I'd let him calm me down when we were in the woods in Colorado. Why couldn't he let me calm him down here in the plane? I'll tell you why, because Dean tries to be Mr. Cool all the friggen time. He has to prove that nothing's wrong, until something is wrong. Then he just gets irritated at the situation, and himself.

"You need to calm down," I snapped unintentionally.

"Well, I'm sorry, I can't," he bit back with just as much venom.

Sam cut in, closing Dad's journal around his finger, keeping his page. "Yes, you can." He was facing Dean just like I was. Both of us were worried, but angry. We were running out of time, Dean was at the moment, not helping, and we didn't really have any clue where this thing was.

"Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help, yoga crap, it's not helping." _Self-help yoga crap_? Sam doesn't do yoga, you freak. If Sam tried to do yoga he'd probably fall over and cause a tree to fall down, he's that tall. I had to laugh just picturing Sam trying to do yoga. That led to me picturing Dean doing yoga. Yeah, they should not do yoga.

"Dean, listen," I shoved Sam back into his seat when he had leaned forward and turned to face Dean. "I get it. You're freaking out. I freak out all the time, you know that. But you can't panic right now… If you panic, you are wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now. Because if you don't I'm going to tackle you to the ground and make you drink so much holy water that your kids will come out baptized, and Sam isn't going to stop me. Do you understand me? You need to _calm_ _down_." He stared at me with narrow eyes. "Seriously. Dude, breathe." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, the narrowed eyes never leaving my calm ones. I waited until he'd visually relaxed and I smiled. That was definitely better.

Sam waited until Dean was breathing normally again and then opened the journal. "Good. Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. _The Rituale Romanum_." Whoa, sounds professional.

"What do we have to do?" Dean questioned with hope. Okay. He was focused on the hunt now.

"It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful," Sam explained. Why would he think that was a good idea? That is _not _a good idea!

I looked at him. "What do you mean "_more powerful_"? We don't want that thing to be more powerful, we want it dead. Find a new exorcism." He glared at me and just continued.

"It's more powerful because it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own but –"

I cut him off. "Have you lost your coconut? That's the worst idea I've heard like, ever. Gimme that. You aren't allowed to look things up any more." I reached for the book, but he just pulled it out of my grasp and held it up in the air, slapping my hand. If this kid slaps my hand one more time…

"Sam, how is this a good thing?" Dean's voice had grown a little more normal, and I think that it's because Sam and I were acting like we always did together.

Still fighting me off, Sam answered him. "Well, it's because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all." I stopped fighting him. Why didn't he freaking say that before?

"First things first, we got to find it," Dean announced.

* * *

I walked up from the bathroom, drying my hands on my pants, when I saw Dean ahead of me using the EMF meter while walking slowly up the aisle. It's a good thing a lot of these people were starting to fall asleep, or he would have seemed pretty odd. I passed our seats and Sam snapped his fingers, trying to get me to leave Dean alone and I waved him off before stepping directly behind Dean. I was going to call his name, but the lady next to me saw my mouth opened and I saw her grimace. Okay, maybe she was nervous, too. I don't need a riot on my hands. "Christo," I whispered. Nothing. All right, she's not possessed. Closing the distance between me and Dean, I grabbed his shoulder. He jumped and spun so quick that it caused me to jump when he screamed.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry! Did you find anything?"

He shook his head with a frown. "No, nothing. How much time we got?" I shrugged my shoulders. I honestly didn't know. I'd asked Sam to not tell me because I figured that the continuous decrease would probably just make me anxious and cause drastic things to happen. I turned to face Sam, holding my wrist in the air and tapping an index finger against it. He flashed five fingers three times. Did this guy really think I wanted to do math right now? Why couldn't he just mouth the word? That d-bag. Okay… Let's see here. It's five, six, ten, twelve, fourteen, fifteen… I did the math as quickly as I could while counting on my fingers. "It's fifteen minutes," I heard Dean say with a sigh when I turned around to tell him. Well if you already knew, why'd you even ask!

"Maybe we missed somebody?" I chanced looking around the plane. The place was full and I knew that Dean had been meticulous with his EMF. There was no way he'd missed somebody.

"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," he suggested.

I laughed. "Fat chance. Do you really believe that?"

"Well, I will if you will." Haha. Of course you will. I nudged him with a grin when suddenly I saw the lights on the Walkman light up. We looked to see the copilot exit the captain's bathroom and head toward to cockpit after a small smile and head nod. "Christo," Dean spoke quietly and with force. His eyes turned back and his face turned into a scowl before he went into the cockpit and slammed the door… Well, as much as you can actually slam a cockpit door, anyway. Where the hell was that holy water? Damn it, Sam!

* * *

We grabbed Sam and headed to the back of plane. Dean had said that Amanda would be able to help. I didn't see how, but we didn't really have time to bicker about it. There was close to ten minutes left, and because I now knew the time, I was starting to get anxious. "Dean, are you even sure she's gonna believe this?" I asked as we came to the doorway.

"Twelve minutes, Bec."

Walking in the back, I saw a cheery blonde who smiled at Dean when he appeared. Here we go, another smitten chick. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope." Dude, what'd they do earlier? Have secret hour?

"Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about," Dean told her as Sam closed the curtain that separated us from the rest of the plane.

"Um, okay. What can I do for you?" She was clearly put off by the fact that two giants and their friend had just basically trapped her in a room where no one could see into it anymore. She eyed us all and stepped back slowly.

Dean was speaking calmly and his voice was strong again. He was in total hunter mode. "All right, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole "the truth is out there" speech right now." It was like he took the words right out of my mouth. We are totally related. I have trained the puppy well.

"Look. We know you were on flight 2-4-8-5," Sam told her.

Amanda stopped smiling and her entire cheery presence disappeared. "Who are you guys?"

"Now," Sam moved along, not even answering her question, "we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure."

"We need _your_ help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now," Dean added.

Amanda struggled with her words and straightened out her top before standing up straight. "I'm sorry… I- I'm very busy. I have to go back –" she stepped around Sam and tried to push past me and through the curtain, but I placed my hands on her shoulders and stepped her back into the small room.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second here. We're not gonna hurt you, okay?" I indicated to Sam and Dean while she eyed them with skepticism. "But listen to me. That pilot from flight 2-4-8-5, uh, Charlie… Chris? Guys help me out," I looked past her and to Sam.

"Chuck Lambert."

"Right, Chuck Lambert. Well, whatever. The point is the guy is dead now." Wow. That was brutal. Even for me. How much time was left? This chick was becoming a huge waste.

She spun to face me. "Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?"

Nodding my head, I spoke quickly. Time was ticking and story time wasn't exactly on my list of things to do right now. "Yeah. He died in a plane crash. Now, that's _two_ plane crashes in two months. And that doesn't strike you as strange?"

"I –" No, chick. It is strange. There is not going to be any stuttering as you try to accept what we tell you. I was clenching my fists and Sam cut over her.

"Look, there was something wrong with 2-4-8-5. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there is something wrong with this flight too."

She didn't seem convinced. Dear God. This is pathetic. We know it's the copilot. I was about ready to stomp down that aisle and go banging on the door myself. Maybe I could talk to the other flight attendant and tell her that I wanted those stupid plastic wings and wanted to see the cockpit or something. Anything seemed like a better idea right now. "Amanda, you have to believe us," Dean was determined. I could tell he was becoming annoyed too.

"On… on 2-4-8-5, there was this man. He… had these eyes." Here we go. Answers!

"Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about," I sighed clutching her arms and sort of shaking her as I sighed in relief.

She pulled out of my grasp and shook her head. "I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?"

Dean shifted as the plane bounced. "Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here."

"Why? What does he have to do with anything?" For crying out loud.

"Just bring him back here! Does it really matter what he has to do with it? We told you we need him here, so get him!" Sam was pulling me behind him. "No," I was struggling to pass him after he'd blocked me off from Amanda. "I don't have to _explain_ to you what the hell is going on. Either you go get him or I will." My voice probably didn't sound as intense as I'd wanted it to. I was being blocked by Goliath himself, and couldn't really see anything past him or Dean.

"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot –" What? You're a freaking flight attendant. You go in there and say "_demon face, there's a party in the back and you're the guest of honor_". Make something up!

Sam was still gripping my arms as he held me behind his back as I fought to get around and slap this lady. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

"Do you know that I could lose my job if you –" Why was she still back here? That's it.

I yanked myself away from Sam, and he caught me just before I passed him. "Freaking, if you don't go right now you're gonna lose a hell of a lot more. We all will. So go!" I yelled. She jumped and moved quickly through the curtain.

Sam let go of me, and there were red marks around my bare arms where he'd been holding me back. "You need to relax," he spun me to face him, a finger in my face as he bent down to my eye level.

"She was taking too long!"

He shifted and stuck his tongue in his cheek, annoyance dancing in his eyes as he brought the holy water out of his jacket and handed it to me. Dean thrust Dad's journal into Sam's hands, and then snatched the holy water. Well, damn. I snatched it back as Amanda came back through the curtain followed by the copilot.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" Oh, there is definitely a problem here buddy.

Dean quickly snapped his fist forward, connecting it with the copilots face, successfully knocking him to the ground. He pinned him down and duct taped the guy's mouth. When did we get duct tape? "Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him," Amanda was at the curtain, starting to freak out.

"We _are_ gonna talk to him," I stepped in front of her, trying to keep her back. It's just gonna be in Latin, and _maybe_ a little bit intense. I squeezed the bottle of holy water onto his face and chest and watched as his skin sizzled and steam rose into the air.

Amanda was freaking out, right in my ear. "Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?"

I turned to her and placed my hands on her arms. "Okay, Amanda? We need you calm. We need you _outside_ the curtain," I started to push her backwards towards the curtain and she was fighting it.

"Well, I don't underst-" she cut herself off. "I don't know-" God, does everything have to be a struggle?

"Sam!" I called out. If she wasn't going to listen to me, maybe he could do it.

Sam turned to face me and helped me get Amanda out of the area. He was already calmer than I was and she seemed instantly more at ease. "Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?" She seemed to zone out, staring down at Dean who was continuing to pin the thrashing copilot down.

"Okay. Okay," she stepped past the curtain.

"Hurry up, Sam. I don't know how much longer I can hold him," Dean struggled the words as he continued to fight.

Sam opened the journal and began reading. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino –"

I flew backwards into the curtain as the copilot broke free from under Dean and shoved him into me. I was laying there, half of my body in the aisle, bringing a ton of attention to me from the surrounding people. I heard the murmurs and the guy in the seat right to my left, stood up and helped me. "Are you okay?" he asked helping me stand.

I wiped myself off and looked at him, a genuine smile on my face. "Yeah, yeah, I am. Thanks." I went to step back behind the curtain when the guy grabbed me. "What are you doing?" I questioned as I looked from his hold on me to his eyes. He eyed the curtain where you could clearly hear contact between something happening. "_Sam!_" Dean's voice rang out loudly from the other side and the guy pulled me back and stood in front of me. I shoved around the guy, just escaping past his reach. He was right behind me as I stepped past the curtain. "No, you have to go now, please." I was pushing him back to the safer side of the curtain and the plane dropped. The guy fell in his seat, completely forgetting me, and buckled himself in. Some knight in shining armor he was.

The plane seemed to fall again. Like, fell; like, we were doing a nose dive for the earth below us and we were all doomed to die, and felt like it was being shoved from side to side. Dude, now I know why Dean's afraid to fly. I fell forward onto my face, and Sam flew forward, toppling on top of me, dropping the journal. Untangling ourselves from each other, he went running one way while I stood up, just as the plane dipped violently again. I was flown into a cart and looked up when I heard a loud, high pitched scream. Dear. God. That scream just came out of my brother. I am not even kidding, Dean Winchester was screaming like a girl and his face was hilarious. I've never seen something so gut-busting in my entire life. His normally almond shaped eyes were completely round and probably the size of oranges. He looked hysterical, and yet I felt like a piece of crap for wanting to laugh. I couldn't even react. I sat there completely immobile, watching him scream as he stared back at me. How do you respond to that? I mean, what do you do as a first step?! The plane shifted left and I went tumbling forward, landing in front of the curtain. I don't know how to describe what happened next. It was like… like, a huge vibration shot through the plane and bright white lights were flashing everywhere I looked, and no lie, it seemed as though loud shrieks came _from_ the light that was pulsating around us. And just out of nowhere, it was all over. The plane leveled out and everything seemed normal. I looked up from where I was laying, making eye contact with Dean.

"Dean?" He was panting as he slowly pulled himself from the door and started padding himself down, as though he were checking to make sure he was still alive. His eyes shot to where I was laying. "You gonna be okay?" I asked as I picked myself up from the ground. He nodded and swallowed. I nodded back and reached forward, hugging him. He surprisingly seemed reassured and squeezed me tight for a moment. "Dean… I can't breathe…" I murmured from where he stood shaking and clutching me even tighter. I felt a large breath leave his body and his shaking stopped. "Dean, lemme go."

He dropped me, yes, dropped me. As in I didn't know my feet were dangling above the floor until they'd made contact once more and we both stepped through the curtain, seeing Sam pick himself up from the ground. Everyone was talking super fast and checking to make sure everyone around them was okay. As I started to step towards Sam, the guy from earlier stood up and stopped me. "You okay, miss?" I smiled up at him.

"Yeah, yeah she's fine," Dean fumed from behind me. The guy nodded and smiled to Dean before turning and going back to the people he'd been sitting next to. Dean shoved me forward until we came to where Sam was standing beside our three empty seats.

"Way to go, Sam," I told him, hugging him. I was just grateful we were alive with our feet safely on… well, a hovering steel floor more than a mile up in the atmosphere.

"Thanks, Becs," he hugged me back and threw the journal on the seat. I crawled past them, settling into my seat and making sure to immediately close the belt. I'm not taking any chance. We've cleared it of the demon, but I can't guarantee that something mechanical wouldn't go wrong next. Not with our luck.

Sam looked at Dean. "Well, man we did it."

Dean nodded his head. "Yeah. Good. Now let's get back on the friggen ground and sea level." Dean pushed past Sam and threw himself in the middle seat, humming Metallica and closing his eyes once more. I laid my head on Dean's upper arm, humming with him.

The plane jostled only from normal turbulence and Dean hummed almost the entire time, me joining him. He seemed way more relaxed though. Sam was sitting on the other side of Dean, staring with full on intensity at the seat tray on the back of the chair in front of him. I wanted to reach around Dean and ask him what was wrong, but the soft humming he'd been doing turned into heavy breathing. I lifted my head from being pressed against the top of his arm, and he shifted, making me place it back immediately. He was finally calm. He was finally _sleeping_. I wasn't going to let this end any time soon and get him all worked up again.

* * *

"Let's get out of here," Dean said as we grabbed our stuff off the ground and headed for the exit. I was right beside him, his arm wrapped around my shoulder when we turned and saw Sam standing there.

"Dean, it knew about Jessica," he said.

I dropped my bag. What? It knew about Jessica? "What?"

"It said it she was… burning." Dear God.

"Sam –" I started.

"Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was," Dean was extremely sympathetic with his words.

I frowned as Sam hung his head, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Yeah," he sighed.

Dean bent down and picked up my bag as I walked over to Sam, wrapping my hand around his waist and leading him toward the exit that Dean was already through. "Come on," I was quiet as I squeezed him closer to my side.

* * *

Shielding my eyes from the sun as we stood outside the hanger at the airport Jerry worked at; we'd just finished telling him about what had happened on flight 4-2-4. "Nobody knows what you three did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed." He reached forward, shaking all of our hands enthusiastically. It was like I'd just gone up against an orangutan. This guy practically pulled my arm out of my socket with how forcefully he shook. When he dropped my arm, I tried to subtly stretch it out. "Your dad's gonna be real proud." If he ever even contacts us and we get the chance to finally talk to him…

Sam finished up shaking Jerry's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll see you around, Jerry." Whew. Officially done! Off to those tacos! I spun and started walking towards the Impala.

"You know, Jerry," I heard Dean say from behind me. "I meant to ask you, how did you get my cell phone number anyway? I've only had it for like six months."

Jerry stared at him, an upraised brow. "Your dad gave it to me." What the? Dad was over here talking to some random _nobody_ and he couldn't even call us back? The anger I felt at that moment was beyond "_upset_". I was livid. Beyond livid. Livid times twelve. I quickly spun and strode over.

"What?" I seethed. "When did you even talk to him? You said you couldn't get a hold of him!" I was back beside Dean and Sam once more.

"I mean, I didn't exactly _talk to_ him, but I called his number." He seemed a little frightened at the expression I was throwing him. "His voice message said to give Dean a call." I was glaring at him. "Uh, thanks again, guys," Jerry left after sending up a small wave, and headed back towards the hanger.

Quickly stomping my way into the Impala, I reached into the glove box and pulled out one of the eighty thousand phones we had in there and lit up the screen. I jabbed my thumb into the keypad before holding it tightly up to my ear while biting my lip and picking at the fraying hole in my knee with my other hand. It didn't even ring. It went straight to voice mail. "_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help._" You've got to be kidding me. I hung up and dialed it again. "_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help._" I ended the call again, tears welling up my eyes just from hearing his voice. This man couldn't even answer my calls when he'd left me sitting in alone in a motel room. This voice mail was new. Like, new, new. Like, right before this case new. I sniffed as the front doors opened.

"…any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like, fifty times. It's been out of service," Dean spoke as he got in and started the car.

"Becca, you okay?" Sam asked as he looked up from where he was still half out of the car. I dialed the number one more time, holding it up to my ear as it went, yet again, to voice mail. I didn't answer Sam, just listened to my father's voice, a tear sliding down my cheek. "Becca?"

I brought the phone from my ear, ending the call. I hit the call button twice, bringing up the redial. Turning on the speaker phone, I held it over the front seat, allowing it to sit in my palm. "_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help_." I ended the call and dropped the phone to the front seat. "He didn't answer," I mumbled as I curled up in the corner behind Dean's seat. The doors closed and both of them were inside, still watching me. "He never answers," I wiped the few tears that had spilled over off my cheeks. "Let's just go." Dean eyed Sam before slowly turning and shifting gears and moving towards the airport exits. The tears silently kept dripping, Sam's eyes not leaving my face while I did my best to avoid seeing him out of the corner of my eye.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven.**

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* * *

"Okay, okay. What about this one? Okay, here goes, _dun dun dun, dun du –"_.

"_Smoke on the Water_, Deep Purple."

"So that one was easy!"

"Whatever, do the next one."

"Right. Okay, ready?" I looked up from the cards in my hand. I was sitting in the back seat of the Impala, feet crossed and stretched out on the seat in front of me. My shoes were on the floor, calm down. I was wiggling my toes in the cotton socks that didn't match, while I tapped the card I was contemplating playing. Dean was sitting next to Sam – who was passed out and we'd agreed that he needed as much sleep as possible – in the front seat, leaned against the door on the opposite side, facing me. There was a stack of cards face-up and balancing on the top edge of the front seat. Dean's eyes were expectant as he threw down a two of clubs on the top of the pile. "All right. _Duuuuuuuunn. Dun-dun dun. Dundunnn, dunn dunn dun._" I dropped a two of hearts on top of his card.

Dean eyed me skeptically with a raised brow, thinking about the song I'd just threw at him. "Spades," he threw down an eight card. "Do it one more time."

I rolled my eyes and began picking cards off of the stack that was haphazardly piled on my knees. "Fine._ Duuuuuuuunn. Dun-dun dun. Dundunnn, dunn dunn dun._"

"Gimme more of the song," he shifted in his seat and reached over to pick up his own cards off my knees after I'd threw down a king.

"No way! Figure it out," I smiled, discarding another card.

He huffed and grabbed the discard pile to shuffle it. I eyed him, thinking he'd never get it when all of a sudden he perked up and looked at me with bright eyes and that stupid grin. "_All Right Now_, Free." How does he always do that!? I stuck my tongue in my cheek waiting for him to drop the fresh new pick-pile onto my knees.

"_Dundun duuuuuuun. Dundun duuuuuu _–"

"_Feel like Makin' Love_, Bad Company." What's he looking at me like that for?! It's just a song, Dean, wipe the protective "_we need to have a talk_" look off your face.

I racked my brain for a song I didn't think he'd get, ignoring the look he was giving me while I tried to just find some kind of fascination in the cards I still had left. "Oh! I know, okay!" I shifted in my seat, a victorious smile on my face. "_Dun-dun-dun. Dun-dundun. Dun-dundun-dun, dun-dun-dun._"

"_Custard Pie_, Zeppelin. Hearts." Damn it! And I didn't have any hearts!

"_Dun, dun, dun, dudunnunnununnn. _Clubs._ Dun, dun, dun, dudundunnu –_"

"_Paranoid_, Sabbath. Come on, Becca, I thought these were supposed to be hard," he smirked and threw his last card, a jack of clubs, on the top of the deck.

I gathered the cards, shuffling them in my small hands after stretching my arms up to the hard roof of the card. "Screw you! Those _were_ hard!" He just rolled his eyes at me. I dealt out the cards, readjusting myself against the door. "_Dun-nun-nun, dundundundundun dun du-_"

"_Hold on Loosely_, 38 Special. Hey, Sam, wake up." Sam had started to twist around in his seat, whimpering, an angry and pained expression scrunched up on his face. Dean leaned forward, shaking him and handing me his cards. I watched as Sam woke up, not really registering where he was, as I put the cards into my bag.

"I take it I was having a nightmare?" he questioned, pulling himself up and looking at us, out of breath.

I slipped my shoes on to my pink and orange clad feet before eyeing him with a knowing look. "You _don't know_ if you were having a nightmare?" He eyed me with tired, weary eyes. "Yeah, Sam. You were having another nightmare. How many nights in a row is that? You've been having them consistently since we left Pennsylvania. That was just about a week ago."

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," he replied.

"Um, not _good_ sleep, Sam! You're tossing and turning when you do sleep, because I _know_ you are trying to stay awake with all those coffees and stupid shows and commercials. Tell me, how many set-it-and-forget-its did you buy this month?"

"Becca, chill," Dean dictated. "Sam, you do know that sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this. She might attack you in the middle of the night or something if you don't start owning up to what's bugging you. I'm only looking out for you, man."

Sam ignored us both. "Are we here?" he sighed, clearly annoyed and silently saying that he was done discussing it.

"Yeah," I bit. I was getting sick of this. These nightmares weren't just affecting him anymore. They kept Dean and me up too. If we did get sleep, there was a guarantee that one of us, or both of us, would wake up in the early hours of the morning to see Sam sitting at the table or wide awake on his bed. He was always researching, looking for new cases and signs that could point to where Dad would be. He'd have a full coffee in front of him, with another clutched in his paw like it was a grenade that had had the pin pulled. I picked up the paper from the floor next to my bag and slapped it into his arm. Was it harsh? Yes. Did he jump when I did it? Yes. Did he deserve it? Oh hell yeah! "Welcome to Toledo, Ohio, where all your dreams can come true, _unless you TALK about them!_" Hint, hint, Sam. He snatched the paper from my hand, giving me a paper cut in the process.

I was examining my finger when Dean grabbed my hand. "Is that blood?" he was inspecting it close enough that I could have poked him in the eye. I flicked my finger in his hand, and he just squeezed it harder, digging his nail into the cut.

"Ow, ow, ow! Okay! Okay! DEAN!" I twitched in his hold until he loosened up and gave me those eyes that said he knew what I had been trying to do, and that he didn't recommend that I do it again. "Yeah, it's just a paper cut though, Dean. No big deal. I've had worse."

He reached into the small first aid kit that was sitting under the seat, and threw a band-aid at me, while allowing me to have full control over my hand once more. "You get that blood on the seat, you walk the rest of the time we're in Ohio."

"You mean Toledo," I responded, wrapping the bandage around the cut.

"I mean Ohio."

I looked up at him, shocked. "Seriously? Come on, that's a little drastic, Dean. Even for your hot-headed self."

He reached into the back and shoved me across the seat and into the other door. Pointing to a completely _stain-free_, clean, shiny piece of leather, he eyed me. "See that?"

Sighing and speaking slowly, as if to a child, I nodded my head. "Yeah, Dean. It's the seat."

"It's the _clean_ seat. _You_ messed it up, and I had to clean it. Do you know how much damage you could have seriously done?" Serious damage? It was an ink stain, not a cut in the material. If it _had_ been a cut, then I could see him freaking out about me being in the seat, but he'd gotten the stain out. There was no sign of it having ever even been there.

"Dude, the stain's gone! You act like I hadn't even tried to get out or did it on purpose or something! Don't be so dramatic!"

"Dramatic? Becca, this car's a classic! You would ha –"

Sam cut over us, and folded the paper so that the circled obituary was staring us in the face. "Hey! Did you guys read this?" We both nodded our heads, still staring each other down. "So what do you think really happened to this guy?" Sam's words were slow and cautious. He was trying to draw us out of the argument.

I patted him on the shoulder and leaned back in the seat, finally breaking eye contact with Dean. "That's we're gonna find out. I mean, why do you think we keep you around? To stare at that pretty face?" Sam's the best researcher I know, and trust me, after that last case… I never want to ever research again… never. He gave me doubtful eyes and I just threw a large grin on my face. "Serious, Sam. I mean, if I really wanted to see your face, I'd go look in a mirror."

"So you do look just like me then?" His lips had a smile that caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle. What? Look just like him? Oh crap.

"No, Sam! I don't look like your stupid man self. I mean, _yeah_, there are similarities. We don't look identical though. I mean, for starters there's –"

"I'm not hearing this again," Dean huffed as he turned in his seat and crunched the door open. "Let's go," he instructed before exiting ahead of Sam and me.

* * *

We were in a morgue. A FREAKING MORGUE. Have I, Becca Winchester, ever been in a morgue? No. Because that's nasty. So nasty. Not as nasty as digging up a corpse though, 'cause that's a billion times nastier. Gross, man, and the smell? Gag me. I was gagging as I walked through the door of room 144 because the amount of formaldehyde was intense. My eyes were seriously burning. God. Why can't we just have a cool, simple case once? Like, I don't know, find the fluffy squirrel who went rabid or something. Oh, no, scratch that. Squirrels mean woods. Woods mean I'm not going. No squirrels. "Hey," the guy who was sitting at one of the two desks in the room looked up from what he was reading when he heard our footsteps. He actually isn't that good. If I had been a killer or something, of humans, I would have totally been able to attack. We made it all the way to his desk before he even realized we were there.

"Hey," Dean answered.

"Can I help you?" No. 'Cause I'm here for fun. Fool.

Dean looked like he had the same though cross his mind. People sometimes. "Yeah. We're the, uh… med students."

"Sorry?" the guy dropped whatever he'd been looking at and eyed us all.

"Oh, Doctor… Figlavitch didn't tell you?" Figlavitch? I looked at the empty desk that set just behind me. "_Dr. D. Feiklowicz"_. How in the _hell_ does Feiklowicz translate into Figlavitch?! Dean had to have just made that pronunciation up. "We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

The guy picked up his paper once more, a bored expression on his face and in his tone. "Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch."

"Oh well he said, uh…" Is Dean Winchester tripping over his lies? Tsk, tsk. Someone is slacking on his skills. "Oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?" He was clearly frustrated now.

"Sorry. I can't," the guy whose name plate read "_Morgue Tech_", just propped his head onto his bent arm, still looking at his clearly fascinating paper. Please tell me that his name is _actually_ Morgue Tech and that it isn't just a title. I could laugh about that for days, no! Weeks. Oh man, future child's name: Morgue Tech Winchester. Yes. I can see it now. "_But, Becca, you're not gonna give your kid the dad's last name?"_ Do you see a dad around? Because I don't, including my own freaking father. Besides, don't _you_ wish your last name was Winchester? "Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want." He nodded to some folding chairs that were leaning against a far wall.

I scoffed. "_An hour_? We don't really have time for that, Mr. Tech." That's right. I just did that. He looked at me, an upraised brow. Oh, you wanted more details? "Ooh, um, we gotta be heading back to Columbus by then. Gotta pump out those papers, you know. Speaking of, look, this paper's like _half our grade_, so if you don't mind helping us out…"

He placed the file on the desk and perked up. Did that just work? Oh my god, I think it worked. "Uh, look, girl… no."

I heard Dean chuckle as I narrowed my eyes. This guy… Dean looked over his shoulder and to me and Sam. "I'm gonna hit him in his face, I swear." That right there? That is the EXACT reason I am proud to call Dean my older brother. Before I could high-five him, Sam smacked his arm. Leave it to Sam to be freaking clear headed. I watched, in horror, as Sam pulled out his wallet and dropped a bunch of TWENTIES on Morgue's desk. There were like five of them. That's a hundred dollars, people. One. Hundred. Dollars.

Morgue suddenly found a new drive to get us to where we wanted to go, because he picked up the money and stuck it in his lab coat before smiling. "Follow me," he stood and walked towards the door. I was still wide eyed and had my chin on the ground and Dean was _pissed_. Sam just acted like nothing happened as he turned and started following the guy.

"Dude, I earned that money," Dean grabbed Sam, making him face us again.

"You won it in a poker game," Sam argued.

"Against _me_!" I hissed to Sam, who was still in Dean's grasp, at the same moment Dean bellowed, "Yeah!"

"And you won it from someone else. So I guess it's come full circle, huh?" he pushed, glaring down at me. When I didn't answer him, he just used his other hand to pull off Dean's and walked towards where Morgue had taken off to. I huffed as Dean and I slowly started our own way to the table on the other side of the room, scowls on both of our faces.

Ew, ew, ew, ew. I'm surrounded by dead bodies. I'm standing at a table, staring down at a dead body. A _dead body_. "Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were… bleeding?"

Morgue had a smile on his face, seeming fascinated. What kind of freak gets fascinated by this?! "More than that. They practically liquefied." He pulled back the sheet. There, in the cold, dead, gray, gross body that I was prepared for, were two giant holes. In his face. IN. HIS. FACE. A dead body with no eyeballs. That's right, _no_ eyeballs. None. _Liquefied_. Do you know what that means? They basically MELTED right inside his FREAKING HEAD. Dear God, please never let my eyeballs melt inside my head. I was NOT prepared for no eyeballs. I at least expected like some sort of leftover eyeball... something.

"Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" I think I'm going to be sick. I grabbed onto Dean's arm as he spoke, and turned behind him, coughing.

"No…" Morgue spoke slowly, eyeing me. "No, besides the daughter… He was all alone. Is she gonna be okay?"

I straightened back out, fighting back the desire to leave the room. The smell was so bad right now. "Yeah," I coughed. "I'll be fine. I just… Never really get used to the bodies, do ya?"

I thought we were done for as Morgue eyed my, what I am sure was green, face. I was so glad Dean had eaten my breakfast while I'd stepped into the bathroom for those five minutes at the diner. "What's the official cause of death?" Sam's voice snapped Morgue's fully functioning eyes back to his tall frame.

"Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure." Something _burst up in there_? _Burst_, Morgue? HIS EYES ARE GONE! There's not a single trace of an eyeball in that skull! Nothing, not even the – OH GOD, I LOOKED IN THE SOCKETS! It was so gross. There were these little stringy, vein things and I am so going to be sick. So sick. I had to turn away from the guy once more and breathe deeply behind my brother.

"What do you mean?" Sam continued on. How is he not completely grossed out right now?

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen." More blood than you've ever seen? Is that possible? Where would it all come from?

"The eyes… what would cause something like that?"

Morgue sighed like he had to tell us something that we should have already known. "Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims." Um, we're a little past bloodshot. We're more in the "blood shot from the eye" realm of things.

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?" I tried to be sarcastically funny as I fought the taste in my mouth that was instinctively telling me to run to the nearest toilet or garbage can. I pulled the blanket back over the body, doing so while my eyes were squeezed shut. I could not possibly stare at that any longer.

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor." I gave him as big a smile as I could possibly muster. I didn't know if I would be able to come back here for more answers from the doctor.

Dean must have noticed my uneasiness. He perked up, an idea clearly forming in his mind. "Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know, for, uh… uh, our paper." He threw that grin on his face once more.

"I'm not really supposed to show you that." The hell you aren't. You just showed me something that will certainly haunt my dreams tonight. You better make up for it by showing me some papers.

Sam clenched his teeth and I saw him pulling out his wallet. What? No. This guy had already gotten a hundred bucks. And what'd he do? Tell us he didn't know what happened and couldn't really say any more than that the eyeballs _burst_ in the guy's skull? No, uh uh. We will not be giving him any more money. I stopped Sam before he had the wallet in the air. "You don't think that after that _gift_ my friend here gave you, that you could just maybe copy it for us? I think we've been pretty generous."

"Hey, I could lose my job if I –" he was practically scolding me like I was some sort of kid.

"Yeah, and we could fail our papers!" I shot back before he had a chance to finish. He looked at me defiantly, just stepping around the three of us and back to his desk. "Fine. You know what, don't give us the police report. That's fine. Let's go, guys. Before the police station closes. I'm turning this guy in for allowing us to see the body that's _still being examined_. I wonder what they'd think about that." I turned for the door, hands in my pockets.

"That's blackmail!" Morgue gasped as he stopped at the edge of his desk and glared at me.

I knew I had him at that moment. The fear in his eyes and the way he instantly flushed when he unconsciously tapped the pocket that the money had been dropped in. "You're damn right it's blackmail. Now, are you gonna copy that police report, or not? You've got like, thirty seconds to answer me, Morgue." His mouth gaped open, he was clearly struggling to form words. I smiled as he walked past us, to a filing cabinet, pulling out a file. I waited, fighting past my nausea, as he caused the large copy machine in the corner to groan and flash. He stepped up to Dean and placed a copy of the report in his hands, and brushed past me. "Thanks, Morgue."

"Please leave," he huffed as he slid the folder back into the file cabinet and sat down at the desk once more.

"This might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing," Sam suggested as we headed down the hall, working our way to the exit of the hospital. My eyes were still burning, causing me to rub them so hard that I started to see white orbs beneath my lids. The formaldehyde seemed to be caught in my throat or something, and I felt like I was choking on it, causing me to gag again.

Dean jogged up the stairs, taking two at a time, as we finally made it to the hall leading to the exit. "How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?"

Sam pushed opened the doors leading to the fresh air and I immediately sucked in as much as humanly possible. "Uh, almost never."

"Exactly, Sam," I stated as we stood on the top of the concrete stairs that led to the sidewalk below. "Did that really sound like a medical thing to you? The guy's eyes just burst and he had more blood in his head than Morgue ever even saw? Come on, that doesn't just happen. You're not thinking here."

"All right, all right. Let's go talk to the daughter," he started down the stairs, as Dean nudged me.

I stepped slowly down the stairs as we spoke. "Blackmail, Becs?"

I turned and stuck my hand in my pocket when we reached the bottom step, a big grin on my face. "That's not the only thing I learned from my big brother." He raised a brow as he took the keys of the Impala out of his pocket. I slid my hand out of my pocket and shook the twenties that were clutched in between my fingers.

Sam freaked when he saw me. "You took the money I gave him!?"

"Sam, you gave him _a hundred _dollars. That was way too much! Besides! He didn't really know what he was talking about, and he was a major douche!" I argued as Dean snatched the bills form my hand and started counting them before stuffing them in his own wallet.

"And what about when he finds out?" Sam pressed as we walked back to the Impala.

"What's he gonna do? Run to the police and say that we stole the records? No. Because they have tapes in there, showing that you paid him, and he accepted the money before showing us Shoemaker's body and then making the copy. There's not audio on those things! They're not gonna know I threatened to blackmail him, or be able to see that I got the money out of his pocket. Maybe next time he'll be nicer and check for student ID or something," I finished as I slid into the back seat of the car, shutting the door before Sam could say anything.

"It's like you have no concept of what's right and wrong," he bit closing the door behind him as he climbed in.

I rolled my eyes and buckled myself in. "Yeah, well, it's like you have no concept of how to shut up."

* * *

Stepping into the funeral memorial thing we saw a _ton_ of people, all dressed in black. They eyed us skeptically, instantly whispering. Cool. I saw the picture of Mr. Shoemaker sitting on the desk, and cringed. It was weird seeing his face _with_ eyes, if you can believe it. I couldn't even seem to accept the fact that the holes had once had orbs full of color and life in them at one point. "I feel like we're underdressed," Dean frowned as he eyed everyone.

"I told you to wear a nicer shirt," I mocked as I grabbed a toothpick off of a nearby tray and stuck the food in my mouth.

"It's not like you're dressed up, Becs," he sighed as we pushed our way through the crowded house.

Dropping the toothpick in some guy's drink as I passed by, I rolled my eyes when I heard Sam quickly offer from behind me to get him a fresh one and took it from him with a forced smile. The guy didn't even realize I'd done it. Way to be a party pooper, Sam. "What are you talking about? This is my nicest shirt!" I pulled the bottom hem of it away from my skin where it'd been clinging.

Dean smirked as we stepped through the back door and out into the yard where there were more people mingling. "And by "nice" you mean?"

"No blood, gun powder residue, or grease stains, obviously," I grinned. Sam suddenly tapped my shoulder and pointed to a group of girls sitting on a bench in the distance.

"Those are Mr. Shoemaker's daughters over there."

We passed more people who were eyeing our lack of respectable and I guess you could say _respectful_ attire as we neared Donna and Lily. "You must be Donna, right?" Dean questioned as we neared.

I stopped next to the chair that Sam and Dean walked right past without a second glance. There was a blonde, and dude, I'll admit she was pretty. Totally Dean's type, if she was legal. She was on her phone, already making me angry for Donna's lack of sympathetic or caring friends. I saw her mouth fall open, and a cocky smile cross her lips as she eyed Dean and Sam. And no, she didn't just look at them. I'm pretty sure this chick just slept with them in her mind. I will not have her imaginary children as nieces and nephews. I cleared my throat and kicked the leg of her chair. Her eyes looked up to me, and the smile fell off her face as I glared death at her. She immediately went back to texting whoever was on the other side of the line, who was no doubt receiving a ton of information about "_OMG wut a bitch_" I was. I shifted my eyes between her as she continued to undress my brothers, and Donna who was seated next to someone I'd already deemed a better friend, just because she was rubbing Donna's back. My judge of character should really probably involve a little more than what it is I have right now…

The dark haired girl closest to us on the bench nodded her head and brought her tired eyes to rest on us. "Yeah."

"Hi, uh… we're really sorry," Sam shot her a sympathetic smile and she immediately returned it. This girl next to me on the chair was practically crawling out of her seat to touch Sam. She reached out a hand that was about to grab his jacket sleeve, and I smacked it as if she were an infant about to touch the stove. Do not touch the brothers!

"Thank you," the words came out of her mouth almost before he even finished getting his grievances out. It'd clearly been a day full of sympathy and "_If you need anything_"s. I felt bad for her, and for my lack of better clothes.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean, and Becca. We worked with your dad," he told her with a sympathetic tone. Could he sound any more like a girl? My God. You're laying it on a bit thick there, Sam.

I noticed her eye her friends and a small smile then made her way back over to us. "You did? All of you?" She looked directly at me with the last question. What the hell does that mean? I can work with people, too!

Sam quickly fixed the mistake. "Dean and I did. Becca knew him through me, we're siblings." Donna eyed me judgmentally and then ignored me before looking back up to Sam and Dean.

"Yeah, " Dean quickly stepped in before she could say anything. "This whole thing. I mean, a stroke." Stroke my ass.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," the girl next to Donna told us bitterly. And I don't think I like you anymore.

Donna patted her friend on the hand, and turned to her. "It's okay. I'm okay," she assured. I noticed her friend didn't seem convinced, and actually seemed upset, but allowed Donna to continue talking with us.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?" Dean requested.

"No." Well… That's helpful.

A younger girl, Lily, turned around on the bench and faced us. "That's because it wasn't a stroke." She seemed convinced, like she knew for a fact that it hadn't been a what everyone else was saying it was.

"Lily, don't say that."

"What?" I asked Lily from where I stood. If this girl knew answers, she had to talk about them.

Donna shook her head while taking hold of Lily's hands. "I'm sorry, she's just upset," she told me with dull eyes.

"No, it happened because of me –" Lily started out saying. She seemed really upset, and it made my heart break a little.

"Sweetie, it didn't," I tried to assure her when Sam stepped around me and crouched in front of her.

"Lily, why would you say something like that?" Did this bitch just turn in her chair and bite her lip while trying to stare at my brother's ass!? I growled in my spot and kicked her chair again, not drawing any attention from anyone minus her.

I dragged my index finger under my jaw and across my throat, catching a look from Donna and her friend. Quickly pretending to scratch as though there'd been itch, I glared at the blonde bimbo in the chair once more. Receiving a glare in return, I saw her grab her phone once more. I peered over her shoulder, reading what the text read. "_bitch just acted like she was gonna kill me. please he said they were related. does she have some sort of weirdo crush on him. omg ew incest wutta freak lol_" Okay, ew. That's beyond gross. She smirked in her seat and I just smirked back. I will be destroying that phone before I leave. "Right before he died, I said it," Lily was explaining to Sam.

"You said what?" I shot towards her with a nod of my head. Sam turned at me and looked up with annoyed eyes. Catching Barbie's eyes in the seat next to him, he returned her – what I'm assuming was supposed to be flirty; it just made her look like a whore; and I mean that with love – smile with a forced, tight lipped one. Take that lady, he doesn't even like you.

Lily turned to look at me, regret and fear in her eyes. "Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror." Bloody Mary? Like the childhood prank? There was a pause as I signaled to one of the drinks on the table, silently asking if I could have it, to receive a nod from Donna before Lily continued her story. "She, she took his eyes, that's what she does!" She was looking at Sam with wide eyes, almost as if she was begging for him to believe her. The look in his eyes when he squeezed her hand and looked to me told me that he did.

"That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault," Donna rubbed Lily's arms as she pulled her closer to her.

"I think your sister's right, Lily," Dean joined in. The blonde in the chair spun her head so fast that her hair whipped her in the face. Good. I saw her eye lids lower in that "_I want you_" kind of way, and I gagged on my drink. Her lips formed a smirk on her face as she dragged her eyes across his body slowly. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

Lily shook her head, seeming defeated. "No, I don't think so."

Sam stood up, squeezing Lily's shoulder. "Thanks, Lily. Thank you, Donna, for talking with us. We're really sorry about your dad."

Donna nodded to us as Lily turned in her spot once more, her back to us, facing the ground at her feet. I was glaring at the chair I loathed when Dean walked past me and followed Sam, leading the way back to the house when I nodded my head to his light nudge, sipping on my drink once more. I went to walk around the chair, catching my toe on the leg I'd been kicking, dropping my water all over miss mentally screwing my brothers, and her pretty white phone. Oops. I threw my hands up to my face, shocked. "Oh my God! I am so sorry!" I exclaimed as she stood up in the chair, shocked at the icy water that was now causing her dress to cling to her. "Are you okay?"

"You –" Dean cut across in front of me, stopping her from continuing her what I am sure would have been a _very_ intelligent come back.

"Hey, it was an accident. It's just water. Becca, come on," he was narrowing his eyes at her, and pulled me along beside him, a victorious smirk on my own lips. "That was an accident right, Becca?" he whispered in my ear as we walked back up the steps to the deck behind the house where Sam stood waiting, judgemental eyes directed towards me.

I made my way to the large staircase that was sitting across from the front door we'd come in earlier, sliding in and out of the gaps people had created while talking. "Come on, Dean. You _know_ how clumsy I am."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve.**

**Holy Hannah, there have been over one-thousand views! Thank you so much! You cannot believe how happy that makes me. I am so unbelievably grateful that I have started feeling like I just have to crank out a new chapter each day! I will do my best, but please, do understand that school starts up once again, so I don't know that I will be able to get them out as often. These take a while to write (because I get sidetracked) but I will get as many out as possible! I absolutely promise!**

**This chapter is a bit shorter, but also has a little more of my own additions as a flashback. I hope you find it interesting and enjoy it.**

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**Necessary disclaimer, of course.**

* * *

"Oh, God, just let it _go_," I groaned as we rounded the banister and started looking for the bathroom.

"You can't just go around and do that sort of thing to people, Becca! You could have –" Sam persisted as he followed quickly and was practically catching the back of my shoe with his giant feet. If this kid flat tires me...

"What?" I spun around, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble before running me over. "What, Sam? I could have ruined her dress? I could have wrecked her phone? What, Sam? Please! Tell me what was _so_ horrible about what I did! She was molesting you with her eyes, Sam! Both of you! I'm just supposed to sit by and allow that? Let me go grab some guy and let him look at me as though he's already completely undressed me in his mind. Let's see how _you_ react! It was _just water_!" I was fuming. He and I were consistently at each other's throats since he'd started having these dreams again.

Dean stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam's chest, forcing him to step back a couple feet. "Knock it off, both of you," he shot a look at me. "We gotta figure out what's going on and we aren't going to get anywhere if you guys can't even be in the same room together."

"But, Dean –" I started, shoving a hand in the air, pointing it towards Sam.

"I'm serious, Becca." His eyes caught mine and I saw that look of finality in them and the tightness of his jaw told me not to push it. I just slouched over in defeat, biting my tongue. Turning, I stomped into the bathroom, slamming my hand against the door loudly as I flung it open.

There was a big circle of dried blood still sitting on the floor. Did these people not believe in bleach or something? Why was this still here? How could Donna let her sister see this? I could find nothing but negativity pulsing through me. Sam and Dean followed me, closing the door behind them. "The Bloody Mary legend… Dad ever find any evidence that it wasn't a real thing?"

"Not that I know of," Dean was looking at the floor, slowly circling the blood. Oh, gross. Sam just touched the blood. What a freak!

"I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it," Sam continued, inspecting the blood.

Dean was watching our weirdo brother. "Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening."

"The place where the legend began?" Sam asked as he stood up. Dean shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet.

I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the tub, rubbing my temples. "I doubt she's just sitting in there, Dean." He rolled his eyes at me, looking around the door of the cabinet when Sam started to speak again. "But according to the legend, the person who says Blo –"

"Shhh!" I glared at him. "You already said it twice. If you say it again, she's gonna come and kill someone else. Besides, I think that it might not have even been done right."

"What do you mean, "_done right_"?" Dean moved out of the way as Sam shut the door to the medicine cabinet with a thunk.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and closed my eyes with a grimace. "I just feel like there's no way she could have done it. I mean, she couldn't get out of the mirror."

_I froze as I stepped out of the stall and saw the girls in front of me. Tiffany glared at me, a smirk on her face. "Where'd you get those clothes, Becky? The Salvation Army?" she and the girls laughed hysterically while I looked down at my light brown, over-all strapped dress. My older brother's dingy, white shirt hung off my shoulder as it attempted to keep me covered beneath the fabric of the dress._

_"Tiffany, look at her shoes," Amanda pointed to my shoes as she covered her mouth with her pudgy hand, trying not to look like a hyena. I stuck out my bottom lip, and looked down at the beat up old sneakers that were two sizes too big and had old oil rags stuck in the toes because that way "the shoes would last longer and I won't need new ones for a while"._

_Tiffany laughed louder, along with Amanda and Nicole who were clutching each other for support as they leaned on the sink. "Who did your hair, Becky?" Tiffany slowly circled me, her long fingers wrapping their bright, pink nails around the end of my loose, sloppy, clearly off center braid and pulling with a sharp tug, causing my head to snap backwards._

_"My name's not Becky!" I turned around quickly, ripping my hair out her hands. "It's Becca!" I told her as angrily as I could. Tiffany's bright, purple skirt swished as she shoved me backwards into the half circle, stone sink that sat against the wall. I heard the water pour out of the many tiny spouts when I landed on the lever on the floor. I picked myself up, using the sink for support. "Leave me alone, Tiffany!" I tried to sound secure, but it came out shaky and I was trying to convince myself that I was angry enough to tackle her with my five year old body._

_"Oh, come on, Becky! We just wanted to play a game," she teased as she stood directly in front of me, her blonde side ponytail swinging as she shifted her weight onto her left leg and crossed her arms._

_Amanda and Nicole nodded their heads as they came to stand on either side of me. "A… a g-game?" I questioned as my entire everything told me not to trust the eight year old in front of me and her same aged friends. "What game?" My eyes were narrowed and I was clutching the sink behind me with my tiny hands as the stray hairs that Tiffany had forced out my braid slowly fell from the air and around my face. "How do you play?"_

_Tiffany's mouth formed an evil grin, as she looked at the girls around me. "All you have to do is stand in front of the mirror and call her out."_

_"Who?"_

_"Mary."_

_My eyes widened. "I don't think my daddy would want me playing that game," I told her honestly._

_"Do you always do what your daddy says?" Nicole sneered beside me as she tugged on the large sleeve that was falling off my shoulder._

_I nodded my head quickly, causing more of my braid to fall down and around my face in loose strands. "My daddy said he can only protect me if I listen to what he says." The girls cackled with delight at my words, causing my face to fall and my lips to form a pout._

_"What's he protecting you from, Becky, the monsters under your bed?" They all laughed harder at Tiffany's words as she stood there, a victorious smirk on her thin lips._

_Tears welled up behind my eyes as I stood up straighter. "Monsters are real! My daddy kills them!"_

_""Monsters are real!"" Amanda could hardly get the words out of her mouth as she gasped for breath and bent over._

_"Prove it. Call her out," Tiffany was demanding and her eyes looked purely evil._

_"I don't want to," I sniffed. "I'm… I'm going to go find Ms. Mann if you don't leave me alone."_

_Tiffany just grinned wider. She stepped forward so that she was pressed up against me and leaning me back over the stone sink. "Say it," she growled._

_"No!" I yelled in her face. I felt Tiffany reach around my head and pull at the base of my hair, spinning me and shoving me to the side of the stone sink, and making me face the mirror._

_"Somebody get the lights!" I heard footsteps and suddenly the room went dark and then there was a couple small snaps and I could see red glow sticks lighting up beneath all of their faces. "Say it," she ordered._

_I could feel the cool mirror pressed against my nose. "No!"_

_"SAY IT!" she pulled harder on my hair. _

_"Bloody Mary!" I yelled as she continued to pull and it felt like my hair was going to rip right off of my scalp._

_"Tell her what you did!"_

_"I killed your baby!" I felt Tiffany shove my face closer to the mirror._

_"Again!"_

_The tears dripped down my face and landed on my hand-me down shirt with unheard sounds. "Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."_

_Tiffany pulled me back by my hair once more so that I was standing right in front of her. I tried to pull her hands out of my hair, but her grip just tightened. "Tell her one more time, Becky."_

_I shook my head, only to make the pulling worse. "No," I fought. She kicked the back of my knees and I dropped to the floor. I sat there, crying in a heap on the peach and black tiled floor. Tiffany stood in front of me, her back to me as she looked in the mirror._

_"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby. Bloody Mary, I killed your baby. Bloody Mary, I killed your baby!" She yelled as her fists clenched at her side. It was silent as she stood with a happy glare showing as her reflection. There was silence as Tiffany continued to stare at herself in the mirror as one of the other girls clicked back on the lights while I tried to control my sniffing from where I was still kneeling on the floor. "See, I told you, Becky. Monsters aren't real. Your dad is a –" There was a loud clang as the door locked us into the room. I snapped my head up. The lights in the room started flickering and the lever on the ground squeaked as it lowered and the water started running, coming out as deep, red blood. All of the toilets flushed and the doors to the stalls slammed shut. I stood up as Amanda and Nicole ran towards the door and started tugging on the handle. "Open the door!" Tiffany shouted._

_"It won't!" Amanda yelled back as they continued to struggle._

_"What did you do, Becca Winchester!" Tiffany spun and walked up to me, pulling my shirt up in her hands._

_I wrapped my own small hands around her arm, trying to get her to let me go. "You called her! You called Mary! I told you monsters were real, Tiffany!" I shouted as the vents had started to blow loudly, drowning out almost any other sound in the area. The air filled with a sick smell, as though something was burning. Tiffany dropped me and ran to the door, pushing past Amanda and Nicole and tried to open the door herself. I looked up to the mirror and saw a woman, staring back at me. Her dark hair hung limp around her gray face. Her eyes seemed to be missing, and dried blood was dripping down her cheeks. She seemed to step forward in the mirror, until she was right in front of it. Her dirty white dress that rivaled my own in discoloration seemed to glow in the darkness. I screamed, drawing everyone's attention to me where the high pitched, piercing sound was coming from. The lady in the mirror raised her hands and looked like she was going to climb through the reflective frame and dug her nails into it. I shook as she screamed and saw the blood from her fingers drip down the mirror and continue down the cinder block wall in front of me. She continued to claw, her dark, empty sockets never leaving me and the blood continuing to drip. Tiffany continued to thrash and fight against the door, screaming for someone to come and help us. I watched the blood begin to form a small pool on the floor where the wall met it. The blood spread, heading for Tiffany and the door where she and the other girls continued to pound and yell. I ran to the handicapped stall, crawling beneath the shut door, and grabbed the trashcan that was sitting in the corner; determined to break the monster in the mirror. Taking the bag out and throwing it behind me, I crawled out from inside the stall and ran to the mirror smashing it with the metal container, crying tears of fear and anger._

_When the mirror cracked, the water and toilets all stopped as the door flew open and the three girls tumbled to the floor. Ms. Mann stood outside, the door clutched in her hand, staring at the pile of children at her feet. "What is going on here?" she gasped as I came running up behind the girls, a metal trashcan hanging at my side._

_Tiffany picked herself up and ran behind Ms. Mann, pointing a finger at me while she shook in fear. "Becca Winchester did it! She made, she made…" Tiffany struggled to finish her sentence as the vice principal came around the corner with a few other teachers._

_"I did not!" I cried, dropping the metal container to the ground and shaking my head._

"And you didn't think to tell any of us this when it happened? Why didn't you come to me for help!" Dean was wide eyed and pissed, staring at me with so many questions on his face.

I rolled my eyes. "Dean, you were nine. What would you have done? Beat up an eight year old girl?"

"What about Dad?"

"What about Dad! He heard the story I gave the principal. He went in the bathroom and saw the broken mirror and blood, Dean. I told him everything that happened, and do you know what he told me? The only thing he said was _"Why'd you say her name, Becca? You know what's out there and you were still careless enough to mess around with it. I can't keep you safe if you go looking for the danger."_ That's it. That was the end of the conversation. I don't know if he looked for her or not, but neither of us brought it up again," I sighed running a hand through my hair and frowning. "But this? This is different. If it is… you know who, how is she killing her victims? All she could do was scratch at the mirror… And plus. From what I learned, she goes after whoever calls her."

"But here, Shoemaker got it instead," Sam sighed.

I nodded my head at him and I felt the heaviness in my eyes. He was staring at me with sympathy and guilt because I knew he was remembering the day as well I did. I'd come back into the classroom, still crying and my hair disheveled, for nap time. "Well I never heard of anything like that before. Still," Dean sighed rubbing a hand over his tired face, "the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out."

"According to Tiffany, she couldn't actually come out of the mirror. She would just like… would curse you to a life of madness, or maybe even like, lure you over and then you would be sucked into the mirror with her as a replacement," I explained, staring at the mirror that was hanging over the sink.

"A replacement?" Sam asked, turning to face me.

"Yeah. For her child. See, a lot of the legend of Blo- uh, _her_ are said to be in reference to Queen Mary I. She was called, _that_, because she had a ton of miscarriages or like, false pregnancies. Supposedly, the miscarriages were all done on purpose."

Dean looked disgusted. "What do you mean done on purpose?"

"She would induce herself before the baby had come to full term. It's said to have driven her mad."

It was silent as they allowed everything I'd just told them to sink in. "So we have some medieval queen scratching out the victim's eyes?" Dean suggested.

I shook my head, remembering clearly what I'd seen. "No. I don't think so. She looked more modern than that… She was young, and she had on a white dress."

"So do you think that maybe it wasn't because that Tiffany chick said that she took the baby? Because Lily didn't mention a baby at all," Sam reminded us.

"Maybe it's just her name then. I was just giving you what I saw happen and the story I'd heard was all. It's not like it's the only legend out there about her. I'm sure if we look it up, we'll see tons of different variations," I responded.

"It's worth checking in to," Sam sighed with a small grin of hope.

I nodded my head, feeling guilty about our argument. Standing up and following them out of the bathroom, we came face to face with one of Donna's friends, the one I _thought_ I had liked. "What are you doing up here?" she had this look of pure "_you're in it so deep, don't even push it_" on her face.

"We… we, had to go to the bathroom," Dean answered. Together Dean? It's not like a public bathroom. And I'm your sister. So that makes it even grosser.

"Who are you?" the girl's eyes were narrowed and she was rigid as she looked up at Dean.

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad."

The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself." Of course he did. Because if he hadn't, our day would have been that much easier.

"No, I know, I mean –" Dean started before she cut him off.

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that about? So you tell me what's going on, or I'll start screaming," she threatened. God golly, this girl was too smart for her own good. The last thing we needed right now was some trip down to the police station, especially when we still had that report on us, and Morgue would most definitely sell us out if the chance came up. I didn't doubt that at all.

"All right, all right," Sam quickly stepped up to the plate. "We think something happened to Donna's dad.

"Yeah, a stroke," her expression held a ton of sarcasm.

"No, you st –" I cut myself off and took a breath. "No. What happened to Mr. Shoemaker, Donna's dad, wasn't anything thing like a normal stroke. There were no typical signs at all just the…" I couldn't bring myself to tell her about the _"burst up in"_ his skull. "It just doesn't seem right. We think that it might be something else.

She nodded at me, crossing her arms, and seemed to accept my answer. Wow. Okay. "Like what?"

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam stated.

"So if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean challenged.

The girl eyed us all before she narrowed her brow. Sizing us all up, she shifted her weight. "What are you, cops?" No, today we are med students and apparently day traders.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look over the top of my head. "Sure. You could say we're something along those lines. Except we're way better at it than they are, and we always have a permanent outcome. So you're welcome," I told her. "I'll tell you what. Sam, can I have a pen and paper?" I turned to him and held out my hand expectantly. I scribbled Sam's name and number down on it, and ripped the page off of the pad before giving them back to him and folding the number in half. "Here. That's my brother's cell number. It's his direct line, and it's always on, so don't worry about the time or anything. If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary… just give him a call. I mean it. Anything, like flowers suddenly die, birds, clothes shrinking, _anything_." I handed her the paper and smiled. "We gotta go though, so just wait to scream until you hear us leave… Please."

* * *

Oh, come on. More research? I hate this. "All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof… Like, a local woman who died nasty. Becca, did you notice anything that could help us when you saw her in that mirror?"

"Like what? It's not like she was holding up a sign that said who she was or anything. She was just clawing away like mad… trying to get out. She seemed really frustrated, like, she didn't know the mirror would stop her from reaching us. Think that could be something?" I followed them further into the dark library.

"Maybe, but with a legend this widespread, it's gonna be hard to pin point. I mean, it's like you said, Bec, there's like, fifty versions of who she actually is. I found one where she's a witch, another said she was a mutilated bride, then there's the whole queen thing; but there's a _lot_ more," Sam explained as we continued our way to the back of the library where we could see a row of computers.

Dean sighed. "All right, so what are we supposed to be looking for?"

"Well, every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror."

"Really?" I asked scrunching up my face in confusion. "But then… I never heard that she was killed in front of a mirror."

"From everything I've read, yeah. There is definitely always a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers – public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill."

I groaned audibly and threw my head back. "That sounds, annoying… and tedious… and I don't want to do it. Dean, don't make me do it or I will gouge out my own eyes."

Sam chuckled beside me and nudged me in the ribs. "Come on, Becs. It won't be so bad, as long as we, what?"

Dean was standing on the other side of the computers with an annoyed and frustrated look. Spinning one of the monitors around, I whimpered when it had a paper taped to the front that read "_OUT OF ORDER_". "They all say it," Dean turned the computer around once more. "This is going to be _very_ annoying."

* * *

I clicked the file shut and threw it across the room. "How come I can't take a break!?" I whined to Dean who was sitting at the table across from me, a book open in his lap. He looked just as bored and as frustrated as I felt.

He plopped another file in front of me and sighed flipping his page. "Because, if you take a break, we aren't any closer to figuring out who Mary is. Besides, you are the one who was whining about Sam not getting any sleep, so he's sleeping." I flipped open the folder. This girl's name was Constance. I groaned and flipped it closed and slammed my head on the table top, causing it to shake. "Hurt, didn't it?"

"Shut up," I huffed lifting my head and rubbing it with my fingers. "Dean, I seriously think we've gone through everything… There's nothing here."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know, Becs. But you said you've seen her, so we know that she exists. There's just…." He picked up and dropped a pile of papers. "So much crap to go through."

I stretched in my chair. "I hate this. I mean, what do we know so far?"

He looked at me through his lashes while his head was balanced on his palm. "Her name is Mary."

"She died in front of a mirror."

"She took Shoemaker's eyes."

"She attacks via the mirror. Except for when I was little. She couldn't get through."

"Um…" Dean took a breath and puffed out his cheeks. "Uh, I guess that she doesn't have to go after the person that called her."

I looked at him. Is that seriously all we knew? "God this sucks," I rubbed my hands over my face. "How did Sam do this?! I would have gone insane. Ugh, just hand me another ledger." I reluctantly took the thick book from his hands and laid it on the table, opening the old leather bound cover. I stared at the page while slowly sliding my finger down the names. "_Kenneth Dawson, infection of the spleen. Ashley Williams, child birth. __Maurice Hendricks, heart attack. Howard Fishman, heart attack. Jameson Bell, heart attack_." Dear God, this town needs to seriously invest in heart medication or something._ "Terrence Ladling, diabetes. Mary Rhodes, internal bleeding resulting from... car accident_." Damn, I'd been so close. I looked over at the bed Sam was passed out on when I heard him gasp for breath.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" he groaned, not moving. Um, you're welcome?

"'Cause I'm an awesome brother. So what did you dream about?" Dean spoke in the same bored tone we'd been communicating in just ten minutes before.

Sam sat up, a sarcastic look on his face. "Lollipops and candy canes," he bit.

I snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"Did you guys find anything?"

I sighed shutting my book, "A new self hatred."

"And a whole new level of frustration to go along with it. No. We've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary."

"That's unfortunate," I told Dean with a look.

"Our lack of findings?"

"No. How does a giant mirror just fall on someone? You'd think he'd have seen it coming." I started laughing hysterically, and dude, I should not have been. I was cracking up, clearly losing it. "Oh my God," I gasped between breaths, clutching my stomach, "guys, imagine that your last site ever, is yourself screaming. If that guy had Dean's face from the plane, I'd have died!"

I had to duck an incoming coaster from Dean. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet," Sam sighed as he fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Oh heck no. If he gets to lay back down, so do I. I got off the bed and laid down next to him.

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know… eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary."

"Dean, you seriously just got done running over the list of reasons why it _was_ Mary. I mean, the best way to determine if it was really her was if someone was still alive and could explain to us what she looked like. Then I could compare it, you know?" I crossed my feet and stared at the ceiling up above. "What if like, her name wasn't Mary?"

"It has to be Mary, why would you call out Bloody Mary if her name wasn't Mary?" Dean bit as if I were stupid.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know. We call you Dean when obviously your real name is Douche; it was just a suggestion."

"A stupid suggestion," I heard him grumble as he stretched and put the book in his lap on the table.

"Oh bite me," I sighed as I felt Sam reach into his pocket when a shrill ringing sounded through the air.

"Hello?" he asked, not sitting up.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen.**

**This chapter is longer, but still not the end. I've tried to add a little more of my own writing to the story, so it's caused some things to lengthen up. I hope you guys like what it is I've added to each chapter. If you don't, feel free to let me know; I actually encourage it.**

**I think that's actually all I have to say so...**

**Thank you times a billion to those who have continuously reviewed, PMed, and added this story to their lists. You seriously don't know how much it means to me.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.  
Song : _Dream Weaver -_ Gary Wright**

* * *

I was standing awkwardly next to Sam while Dean sat on the back of the bench next to Charlie, Donna's friend. She'd called Sam, crying hysterically, and asked us to meet her. Now, I know I told her that she should call and everything, but after all that research – the last thing I really wanted was to do some more. I kind of just wanted a break and a maybe a game of pool. Something to clear my head so that I could go back and reevaluate everything we'd seen. It was just all coming at us so fast. "And… and they found her on the bathroom floor. And her… her eyes. They were g-gone," Charlie sniffed while staring at the ground. Her friend, the skanky one from the chair – they kept calling her Jill, I'll keep calling her skank bank – had died.

"I'm sorry," Sam told her.

"And she said it," Charlie continued. I caught Dean's eyes, both of us knowing that the list we'd come up with seemed a little more backed up. And why the hell did skank bank say it? I'll tell you why. Because she's a skank bank, and skank banks think that they can do whatever they want to anyone they want and that it doesn't matter. They can just go around, forcing the little five year olds – with the hand-me downs from their brothers – to do all the dirty work. I felt rage race through me, and all of it was directed at skank bank. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that, I'm insane, right?" Well…

Dean shook his head. "No, you're not insane."

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse." Tell me about it, sister. I mean, we have to go around and try to explain to people that these kinds of things are real. If we had the time, I'd tell you about the times I've been chased out of homes… yelled at… had cops called on me… been arrested…

I was shifting uncomfortably. I don't like people crying. I cry, sure, but watching other people cry makes me feel… uneasy. I don't know how to comfort them. They just sit there, getting all salty and wet and I am just there, kind of tapping their back with the same force and movements as a limp fish. I think the worst part is because these people have already usually gotten on my last freaking nerve by the time they finally realize what's happening. I don't see how you would have noticed because I mean, I'm really not as bad as Dean and Sam suggest, but I have a bit of a bad temper. I don't like when I try to tell people what needs to happen and then they argue with me. I mean, hello. I'm trying to save your life and you are just here, being stupid and causing more problems. It's just obnoxious. But, so here Charlie is crying, and I am playing with the grass beneath my feet while puffing out large cheeks of air. "Look, Charlie," I tried to snap out of it. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained. And we're gonna stop it, I promise, but we could really maybe use your help."

"What do you mean?" she sniffed, finally look up at Sam and me.

Dean eyed me and then spoke. "Is there any way that you could maybe get us into Jill's room? We're gonna need to look at the bathroom."

"Why?"

"Well when skan –" Sam nudged me in the ribs, sharply, "I mean J-Jill. Jill. When Jill said, you know what, we think that she really came. We just need to be sure."

Charlie nodded her head while playing with her hands. "I'll let you know when I can."

"Thanks," I breathed out a breath I didn't know I'd had.

* * *

_I was running, but tripping as I continued down the hall. Everything seemed so large in comparison to my small body. "Becky! Come on, Becky! We just want to play a game!" I heard Tiffany's menacing voice echo off the steel walls around us._

_"My name's not Becky!" I yelled back, trying to go faster to the door that was refusing to grow closer no matter how hard I tried to get there. My feet were slipping out of my shoes that were too big, and I could almost feel Tiffany's hand on the back of my hair._

_"Becky! Tell her what you did!" Tiffany's voice was in my ear, causing shivers to spread throughout my entire body._

_I pushed on. The door was finally growing closer, and I could see the woman with the bleeding eyes in the panes of glass on each of the heavy doors. She was screaming and scratching at it as blood dripped down the steel and to the floor. I froze. My breathing was heavy, but I couldn't move. Tiffany's footsteps and voice were growing closer while echoing louder off the walls, seeming to shake the entire hall with its vibration. I lunged forward when I felt the bright, pink nails scratch at my dress, and gripped the bloody handle before pulling. It was warm and sticky as I released my hand and allowed the door to slam shut behind me, forcing the whole room into complete darkness. A small light on a table turned on, a grown man, hunched over and reading something. I was in a motel room, a badly decorated motel room, and I wasn't five anymore… I was twenty-two, with blood still on my hand. The man, whose face I still couldn't see, picked something off the table and set it back down moments later. It was a glass, and the small about of amber liquid's reflection danced around me in the small lap's golden glow._

_"Becca," the voice was gruff and low, like he was disappointed or had to tell me something that he would rather not._

_"Dad?" I swallowed, slowly stepping forward. I could hear him shift in the chair and close the book. I stepped forward, slowly. I felt drawn. I stopped in front of him and felt his hand land on my arm, rubbing up and down slowly. As though a switch had been flipped, I was suddenly in his arms, squeezing my arms around his chest as he hugged me back. I breathed in the smell of leather, gun powder, and musk and my face formed a huge grin. "Dad," I sighed, holding onto him for a few moments longer. It was only when I felt something hit my cheek that I pulled away._

_Looking up, I threw myself to the floor. It was my dad, but he was deathly gray. His eyes were missing and thick lines of blood were making their way down his cheeks. I tried to push myself away from him as he neared, hitting the bed beside him and suddenly unable to move. His hands raised in the air, the nails bloody, and reached forward…._

"AHHHHH!" My scream was loud and piercing as I flew up in the bed. I was panting, and from the look on Sam and Dean's faces, they looked just as terrified as I felt. I could feel myself shaking, and I couldn't make it stop. "S-S-S-Sam?" I managed to get out.

"Becca, are you okay?" he slowly stood up from the table and came over to me. "You were having a nightmare," he assured me.

I nodded my head. "But, his… his eyes!" I gestured to my face. "They were _gone_, and there was so much blood, on my hands, on his face… the floor. Mary, she did it! She took his eyes!" I was freaking out, causing my tremors to get worse and the dream to replay through my head.

"Who?" Sam sitting in front of me on the bed, his hand on my knee.

"Dad!" I said the words as though it should have been obvious. "He was here, sitting right _there_," I stuck a finger to where Dean sat, looking at me with worry and shock. "He was just sitting there with that stupid journal, drinking. And… and he called me over and I… I hugged him, and then he had no eyes! He just didn't have them, they were gone! I tried to get away, but I couldn't! I couldn't get away!" I could feel the tears building up in my eyes as Sam reached out and pulled me to him.

He held me as I shook, allowing the small shaky breaths to leave my system. "It was just a nightmare, you know that. Dad still has his eyeballs. Don't worry."

"_Dad still has his eyeballs_." I couldn't help but laugh in his arms at that. He himself seemed to struggle past a laugh and straight face in attempt to say it. I pulled away from him and shoved him back. "Damn it, Sam!

"What!" he was surprised to say the least.

"If your nightmares are contagious and you gave them to me, I'm gonna be so pissed off," I warned crawling off the bed.

"Nightmare's aren't contagious, Becca," he rolled his eyes at me as I stepped over to the table and sat in his seat, across from Dean.

"They better not be!" Dean was still eyeing me cryptically. "I'm fine, Dean," I sighed, running my hand across the mouse pad of the laptop in front of me.

He just grunted and went back to his book. "Oh, I don't think you were ever _really_ fine, Becca. Crazy? Sure. A freak? No doubt. Fine? That's a level of normality that even Sammy can't hit."

I rolled my eyes at him and let the page in front of me load up. Scanning the names in the database, I sighed, already annoyed and bored. "Please tell me Charlie called while I was sleeping."

Sam shook his head at us. "No. It's been a while, too. You don't think she would have said it and that Mary came after her, do you?"

I looked at him with wrinkled brows. "No. She was way too freaked out. I don't think she's ever even gonna talk to someone named Mary after this… Maybe she just hasn't been able to get into Jill's room yet or something. She seemed to believe that it was real after that. Do we have any food? Please tell me you at least got food while I was out," I looked at Dean who shot a look at Sam.

"We wanted to wait until you got up to see what you wanted," Sam explained with an annoyed expression.

"Cheeseburger with pickles, lettuce, ketchup, mustard and a side order of fries. And honey mustard dipping sauce," Dean and I both recited in a bored tone. I always get a cheeseburger. Well, not always, but when someone does a food run, I always get a cheeseburger. It's easier to get the same thing instead of trying to have them memorize some crazy new order. "Same as always," I sighed out before typing "_death involving mirror; Mary_" into the database's search engine.

Sam got off the bed and whipped out his wallet, checking to make sure he had money inside of it. "How was I supposed to know that?"

"Because it's been that for like, two years now," I answered, not even thinking about it. There was a small silence. I could feel Dean's bored eyes staring into my forehead. "I didn't mean anything by it, Sam. It… just… yeah, you know?"

Nodding his head, he threw on his jacket. "Yeah, I know. Okay. I'm gonna go get the food. You guys keep researching," he then quickly stepped through the door.

The door clicked shut and the silence that consumed Dean and me was obnoxious. I couldn't handle it too much more before I pulled up a music video and allowed the song to come out of the speaker. _"I've just closed my eyes again, climbed aboard the dream weaver train. Driver, take away my worries of the today and leave tomorrow behind." _

"Ooh, dream weaver. I believe you can get me through the niiiiiiight," I sang with the song, receiving a snort from Dean. "What?" I questioned, not even shifting my eyes to him.

"_Dream Weaver_?" He asked, turning the page in his giant book.

I rolled my eyes. "I like this song!"

"And you having a nightmare has nothing to do with it?"

"And if it did?"

"You wanna tell me about it?"

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and bringing my legs up underneath me. "You heard what I told Sam. It was Mary, she took Dad's eyes." I was quiet for a minute, meeting his green eyes as he closed his book and dropped it on the table. "I was being chased by that Tiffany chick too, though."

He stretched out his arms and grabbed his beer while raising a brow. "Huh?"

I clicked the laptop closed. There was no way that I would be reading any of that. "In the beginning. I was five, being chased by Tiffany and that led me to the door. I opened the door, and walked in here, and Dad was sitting where you are."

Dean spun his head to the door as Sam came through quickly. "Dude, that was the fastest food run ever… Where's the food?"

"Charlie just called me. She got into Jill's room. Come on."

* * *

I was sitting, impatiently on the top of the roof thing outside of Jill's window as Charlie came into the room and finally unlocked the window and let us in. Climbing in after Dean and Sam, I fell to my face when my torn pant leg got stuck on nail from one of the shingles outside. I was struggling. My face and arms, along with my one leg were on the floor while the rest of my body was tipped up and hanging from the edge of the window while one foot stuck through it, showing to the world. "Dean, little help here?" I reached out and tried to tap the back of his boot while I kind of just hung and swung there. He turned to look at me and rolled his eyes before turning back to the bed he'd put the duffel bag on. "Hey, you dick, come help me!" I was trying not to yell, but oh, I was definitely on the verge of doing so. Sam came to the rescue, thank God. And he was laughing at me. Dude. Did he just take a photo of me with his phone? I officially hate them both right now.

"So what did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam asked as he helped set me on the floor before closing the window and curtains.

I stomped, lightly, over to where Dean was and punched him in the shoulder, receiving a smirk. "Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things. I hate lying to her." I started pulling things out of bag, Dean and I shoving each other's hands away from the opening continuously.

After he'd successfully stepped in front of me, and blocked the bag off from my reach, he spoke over his shoulder. "Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights."

Charlie clicked the lights off. "What are you guys looking for?"

I snatched the camera out of Sam's hands and turned it on. "We'll let you know as soon as we find it," I told her.

Sam reached over my shoulder and pulled the camera out of my hands, holding it up higher than I could even pretend to jump. Damn him. He pointed it towards Dean. "Hey, night vision," he signaled to Dean. Hearing the faint click and seeing Dean attach it to the camera, Sam tested out the screen. "Thanks. Perfect."

I pulled Sam's arms down, so I could see, too. Dean noticed the camera being pointed towards him. Turning and sticking out his butt, he looked over his shoulder and wiggled his brows. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"You're definitely a bigger boob," I responded, trying to seem serious only to hear Sam suppress a laugh next to me before he turned around and started checking the room.

I felt completely useless. "So, I don't get it," I huffed. "I mean… the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. And then, with Tiffany, no one died… How is she choosing the people she kills?"

"Tiffany?" I heard Charlie ask behind me from where she stood beside Dean.

"Yeah," Dean explained. "Becca had a traumatic experience with some girls when she was younger. They called you know who out, too."

"It wasn't traumatic!" I argued.

Dean eyed me with that disbelieving look. "You're still having nightmares from it."

"I had _one_ dream from it, and I'm sure that's only because of the case. Unless Sam's nightmares really are contagious; but I will attack a giant if that's the case Sam."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed from where he was looking into the closet.

We watched Sam close the closet door and slowly scan the walls with the camera. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place," Dean huffed as he slowly walked around the room with EMF meter..

"It's just a joke," Charlie defended. If it was just a joke, why did you call us crying about it? Why are we here in this room, looking for it? Why would I have brought up some "traumatic" experience? You know, it's not a joke, I know it's not a joke… We all know. Tell yourself the truth and this may be done faster. Like Tom Cruise said _"Help me to help you_."

"Yeah, well, somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time," Dean answered gruffly. He was right.

Sam was in the bathroom, looking above the sink. If he was making faces to himself, I would be very annoyed. Highly approving and proud, but annoyed. I didn't like standing here. I felt like I could be back doing research or something… Dear God. Did that thought seriously just occur? No. I do not want to be doing research. Research is the devil. Most definitely. "Hey," Sam turned around, facing us with the camera still pointed at the mirror. "There's a black light in the trunk, right?"

Dean looked at me. "You wanna go get it?"

"Uh, no. You go get it."

"Just go get it," he threw me the keys to the Impala. I grumbled my way past, and opened the window before crawling out. Once I made it down the side of the house, unsuspected, I had to walk a few houses down to where Dean had parked the stupid Impala. Okay, okay, I'll be honest. The Impala's badass and I love it. Searching through Dean's crazy organized trunk, I finally grabbed the light. Holy crap, for such a little thing it sure is heavy. Slamming the trunk closed I jogged my way back towards the house, and up the side, _again. _Tapping the window with my knuckle, I jumped when the curtains suddenly swung open and Dean's face was then pressed against the glass and his eyes were crossed as he puffed out his cheeks and made this weird shape with his lips. I am related to children. Hilarious, hilarious children. Dear God. I laughed and then flicked his face on my side of the window. He unlocked it and shot me his shit eating grin before taking the black light and tossing it to Sam. I tried climbing into the window, careful to miss the nail from last time, and my toes caught on the outer ledge, causing to collapse right into the back of Dean and send us both forward, into Charlie who only stumbled.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I picked myself up and then helped Dean.

"Just close the window," he sighed. So I'm clumsy! He acts like he didn't know this or something.

Following his instruction, I turned when Sam started ripping the brown paper backing off of the mirror he'd taken from the wall. Better hope that Jill family didn't want that. Some people are weird. He turned on the black light and I caught the end of something in the corner of the light. "Wait, look," I pointed.

"What?"

I grabbed his hand and shoved it towards where I'd seen the spot. There was a hand print. Then there was a drip from the hand print and Sam shook my hand off and continued down the back of the mirror. "_Gary Bryman_".

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie spoke slowly as she read out the name.

"You know who that is?" Sam asked turning to her.

"No." Awesome.

* * *

"Seriously, Sam, how did you do this in college? I've never researched so much in my entire life, and already, I hate it," I groaned flipping through yet _another _ledger.

Sam was going through three at once. I don't know how, I couldn't even really pay attention to the one in front of me. "It's not that bad."

"Yes it is!" Sam shot me that look that told me I was clearly being over reactive and needed to relax. "Fine. I have nothing on a Gary Bryman here. Do you want me to take one of those?" I closed my own ledger and took the one he offered me. "Do you think Gary was the first victim Mary ever took?"

Sam shook his head. "No. The first person we've been able to link her to is Shoemaker. Dean looked up the weird deaths and didn't find anything remotely close. And judging from your story, at the way Mary was clawing at the mirror, I'm assuming she was aiming for someone's eyes."

I eyed him. "Thanks, that's just what I need to add to my fears. You sure know how to cheer a girl up, don't ya? Okay, so, don't hate me for asking this, but what about you? What about your nightmares lately?" He ignored me and flipped another page in one of the ledgers. "I told you mine, Sam! The least you can do it tell me yours. I feel like we haven't talked in forever."

"We talk every day."

"Not like we used to. You were my best friend, you freak. And when you left I had to go to Dean. Do you know what that did to me!? I mean, Sam, come on. I look like his clone. From my almost always pulled back, brown hair down to my ripped, blue jeans. My attitude sucks, I'm like, probably the most sarcastic person in the word ever, and I eat burgers. All the time. I eat so many burgers I could probably die from heart disease tomorrow. I don't really just open up anymore, Sam. Dean's a quiet "hold it in" type person, and when you left, I didn't really want to unload everything on him… So, I mean, we talk, but not like you and I used to… I never felt like I had to hold back with you."

He closed one of the books and stuck in his tongue in his cheek, as though he were thinking about it. "You're not _so_ horrible. And you always dressed and acted like Dean, so you didn't really change, Becs."

"Well… true. But you still have to tell me."

"They're about Jess."

"What are?"

"The _dreams,_ Becca… God, so not only are you Dean's music and style prodigy, but now you're just as clueless too?"

Ouch, that stung. But in the, "_you're my little sister and I'm teasing you_" type thing. "Shut up!"

He closed both ledgers, leaning back in the chair. "I saw her getting hurt. In the dream," he shot me a look to make sure I understood. I gave him a look that read "_are you serious, I know what you mean_" and he continued. "I had it over and over again for what felt like forever…"

"So, what'd you do?" my voice was quiet.

He sighed and leaned forward, placing his arms on the table. "I didn't believe anything was going to happen. I just thought it was normal nightmares. Just like some big fear coming through my subconscious or something."

There was a silence. He was glaring at the table, and I was watching him. "Sam, it's okay. It's just a dream. All right, I mea –"

"It's a dream that came _true_, Bec. It's not just some dream like you had. It came true. Jess got hurt, and I knew it was going to happen. Do you know what that's like?" I thought I saw a tear slid down his cheek.

Standing up and coming to stand behind him, I leaned on his back and wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed. There are only two people I feel like I know how to comfort in this world, and the easier one was sitting right in front of me, silently screaming for this hug. "No, Sam. I don't know what that's like. But I know you're strong, okay? I know that there is nothing wrong with you, so if you think there is, stop. I'm sorry about Jess, but you can't keep blaming yourself. If you do, it's going to eat you up inside. It will send you on the crazy, vindictive mission that it sent Dad on, and look at how that turned out. He left his children sitting here with no answers. You can't do that. I don't know what to tell you to make them go away, or how to make them easier to handle, but I'm here for you. Okay? So don't feel like you have to hold it in anymore, and don't feel like you can't come to me. Because you can, you don't have to fight this alone. You're better than that, Sam."

We sat there like that, me wrapped around him, him glaring at the table. The silence wasn't awkward, but I could feel the heat of his anger in my skin and it scared me. "Are you going to tell Dean the next time you two are alone and talking about me?"

"God no, he'd say something like you had _The Shining_ or something equally stupid. He doesn't do feelings well. And do you just think we sit around talking about you all day or something? We have lives, Sam, and way more important things to discuss, like how bad his feet stink after a mission. The answer by the way is absolutely horrid. I suggest we throw his boots out next time," I said in his ear.

I heard Sam chuckle and felt him move beneath me, signaling my release. "All right, come on. Let's go check out the computer and see if any Gary Bryman's are on it."

"Deal," I smiled wrapping my arm around him and walking to where the one computer stood on a table. "Okay," I pulled up the database, "teach me your ways, Jedi Master. What steps to answers take must we?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You realize you completely mixed up character parts, right?"

"And your inner geek shines through. Just tell me what to type."

Working our way, together, through all of the articles, we finally found one about an eight year old boy. I clicked on it as Sam instructed, printing out the entire thing before we walked out of the door, Sam reading it while we neared Dean and Charlie who were talking on a bench.

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver," Sam told us all as we stopped in front of them.

"Oh my God," Charlie gasped.

I raised an eyebrow to her as Sam asked,"What?"

"Jill drove that car." What. The. Hell. You were friends with this chick, knowing she killed a kid? What kind of people live in this town!? You don't just kill a little kid and not go to the police? I had a whole new hatred for skank bank built up inside of me.

"Guys, we need to get back to Donna's," I sighed, glaring at Charlie. "If skank bank killed that kid, maybe there's something on the back of Shoemaker's mirror too."

* * *

"_Linda Shoemaker_" showed up in the black light as I scanned the back of the mirror from the Shoemaker bathroom, and to freak us out even more, there was another hand print. Dean hung the mirror back on the wall while Sam walked downstairs to find Donna. Stuffing the black light into the duffel, I handed Dean the bag and closed the door to the bathroom behind us. "What happened back there?"

"Uh, there was a name and hand print on the back of the mirror, just like at skank bank's house?" I eyed him not understanding how he'd forget. We seriously just left the room. "Do you need to see it again?"

"Not that, you calling Jill skank bank, I mean, don't get me wrong. I like the name choice, but from the way Charlie was glaring at you, I don' t think she really appreciated it."

Oh. "Well, I don't really care. Skank bank was a skank bank. And Charlie deserves a new name too. Who does that, Dean? Who hits a little kid and _kills_ him without making sure he's okay? That seems way more evil to me than some ghost lady ripping out eyeballs." Skank bank deserved to have her eyes ripped out, not only for the killing of Gary, but also for the way she'd eyed my brothers. I felt a bit satisfied with the thought that she could never look at them like that again.

I heard Dean chuckle as we walked down the stairs. "She was hot though."

"She was a skank, and I bet she had herpes, so stop visualizing her in your mind. Besides, technically it's like necrophilia or something now, and I will have you committed for that."

We heard Sam and Donna, apparently arguing, in the room. "…overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave." Whoa, whoa, whoa! That bitchy tone was unnecessary to use on Sam. The guy's like the sweetest person in the whole world, right? No one except me or Dean gets to snap on him for trying to help.

By Dean cutting in and placing a hand on my chest to hold me back, I'm assuming he felt the same way. "Now, Donna, just listen –"

He didn't get to finish what he was saying because Donna took off running up the stairs after yelling for us to get out of the house. "Oh my God. Do you think her dad could've killed her mom?" Charlie asked from where she stood next to Sam.

"Maybe…" I suggested.

"I think I should stick around," she nodded. Yes. Stay out of our hair, and stay here with Donna.

"All right," Dean agreed. "Whatever you do, don't –"

"Believe me," Charlie cut him off. Poor guy can't get a full sentence out can he? "I won't say it."

* * *

I was leaned back in a chair, staring at the ceiling and slowly twisting the chair back and forth. Dean was researching. I refused to look at any of the files Dean dropped in front of me, or type away on the computer like Sam suggested after Dean and I had started getting into a fairly loud argument. So here I was, sitting next to Dean, staring off into space, and humming to myself. "_humhummmmm humhumhumhuhummmm hummhuhumhummhumhuhuhum hummmmmmmhumhummhumhumhumhuuuuuumhuhum –_"

"Stop humming."

"No."

"Becca."

"Dean."

Sam turned around from the giant bulletin board full of everything we'd found that he was looking at, with a bored look on his face. "Guys, can you just, wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" he bent down and looked at the computer screen in front of Dean. Well that's actually a way better plan than I had to just send out a news release banning anyone from ever saying it again.

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database – at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"Hold on, you tapped into the FBI database? Dean, what if you get caught?" I was sitting up now, and brought my chair right beside him.

He turned and shoved my chair, causing me to roll across the room and bump into the dresser. I slowly scooted my way forward, back towards him. "But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town. Becca, if you turn around and push, you'll move faster." God, Sam is a genius! I spun and quickly made my way back over to them, practically knocking Sam over as I ran right into him.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local. Becca and I checked, God did we check. So unless you got a better idea –" I cut Dean off and pulled my legs up beneath me.

"Well, there is the way she's choosing the victims, right? I think there's some sort of pattern. Both people killed someone."

"I was thinking the same thing," Dean caught my look, causing me to smile like I'd done something right.

Sam however, didn't agree. "No, I think saying they killed them is jumping the gun, Bec. With Mr. Shoemaker, we don't know that he really killed his wife. She could have accidentally overdosed like Donna said."

"Sam, don't be dumb. The guy killed his wife. Why would Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary come after him if his wife died on accident. He had to know she was going to do it or something. I don't really see any other reason. And skank bank hit that little kid and just left him there to die. She for sure killed him. It's definitely because they didn't help the victim if it's not because they physically killed them," I stated. I'm right. I know I'm right.

"Okay, well regardless. Both victims had secrets where people died," Dean finished up.

Sam sighed and leaned on the wall behind Dean. "Well, there's a lot of folklore about mirrors; that they reveal all our lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," he eyed me.

"Yeah, okay, you have some scary chick trying to crawl out of the mirror and attack you and just let it happen. I broke that mirror out of defense. And the only bad luck I've had since then is being stuck with you two." Dean lifted a leg up and shoved my chair back once more, but this time, the wheel caught on my shoe that was lying out on the ground and I went tumbling backwards, onto the floor. "Damn it, Dean!"

"So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like, a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it."

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not," Sam concluded as I struggled to roll out of the chair. Now I know what it's like to be a turtle. God this is hard. If these stupid arm rests weren't here…

"Take a look at this," Dean handed a few large photographs over to Sam, and I finally got up and came over to them both.

Oh gross! I made a face. There was a woman lying in a large puddle of blood. You couldn't see her face, but I knew the minute I saw that dress, it was her. "Guys, that's her. That's Bloody Mary from the mirror. I swear. Even if you can't see her face, that's the dress, the hair, the scary hands. It's her. I just know it."

Sam held up another picture for me to look at. "Looks like the same hand print from the two mirrors, too. But who's Tre?"

"Her name was Mary Worthington – an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Dean explained.

"Road trip?" I asked, still looking down at the photos.

"Yeah, let's get going."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen.**

**Two chapters in one night! I had planned on putting this with the last chapter, but I decided that made it positively too long, so here you go. Besides, hopefully you all want the additional reading. I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for reading. I really feel like I owe you so much, and I hope that these chapters make due.**

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers, PMers, and list adders. You're offically my favorite, and I don't think you understand how excited I get when there is a new one to read. You all deserve gifts.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer. (I actually forgot to disclaim a quote in the last one, it was from ****_Jerry Maguire_****.) I don't think I missed any in here, but if I did, please just add them to this disclaimer up here.**

* * *

Ah, Fort Wayne, Indiana. Home to, well, I actually have no idea to be honest, but the files on Mary Worthington's unsolved murder mystery were here. So, okay, ah, Fort Wayne, Indiana. Home to Mary Worthington's unsolved murder. We were standing in the house, or agency, the place could have been either or. It cozy but professional, I really didn't know if the guy lived here or not. Either way; we were where we were and we were talking with the detective who was last on the case. He thought we were reporters, oh the gullibility… I was slowly walking about the, well, area, looking at the frames on the walls that held photos of detectives and police officers, medals, solved case papers, and even some police reports.

"I was on the job for 35 years, detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder… That one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" I asked lightly as I continued to look at the memorabilia.

"You three said you were reporters?"

I turned to look at him with my "_you wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth_" smile and walked beside Sam. "We know Mary was nineteen, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 19th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife," Sam rattled off. Yeah, it's amazing what the guy can do with a laptop for a few measly hours in a car. I'm actually in awe.

"That's right," the detective seemed just as impressed. He just kind of looked at us, as if we had all the answers.

Sam sighed and I knew he felt like he wasn't getting any answers as Dean tried his turn at it. "See, sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you _think_ happened."

The detective showed a small smile. Something that told me he was wise about it, but didn't really think that anyone would believe them when he told it. It sounded like he chuckled, maybe it was a reminiscent sound, but he made it and then went over to a file cabinet and started to move things around before he pulled out an entire box. A box. Yeah, this guy didn't just have a stolen copy or paper on the case, he had a freaking box. Overflowing. "Technically, I'm not supposed to have a copy of this." I leaned over the desk and looked at the picture. It was the same one Dean had found earlier of the hand print and name. "Now see that there? T-R-E?" Yeah I saw it. It was all I'd seen since Dean printed it out. I'd stared at on the drive to Indiana, trying to draw something to connect that to the photo of her in the blood and the article that went along with it.

"Yeah," I nodded, still staring down at it.

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer," the detective told me. Well that I already figured.

I grimaced, already figuring that this was not going to work. "Do you by chance know who it was?" No. I knew he didn't know who it was, because if he did know who it was, the case wouldn't be unsolved. The freaky eye ball guy would be in jail or dead. Hopefully dead, because who steals eyeballs? Still, I couldn't stop myself from asking the question.

"Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon – Trevor Sampson. And I think he cut her up good," the detective showed us a picture of man holding up a glass, dressed in a suit… with sunglasses. If I had only done a quick take of the photo, I would have said his eyes were black, like they were missing. Ironic? I definitely vote yes.

Sam took the picture from my hands and looked at it. "Now why would he do something like that?" he asked handing the picture back to the detective.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial "T". Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell "T"'s wife about their affair," the detective told us. So Mary was a mistress… She had her own secret… Is that why she goes after the people who have the secrets?

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?" Dean was pressing harder for answers, and I could tell he was growing impatient.

The detective sighed and looked at us, seeming sad. "It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out… it was almost professional." Almost? How is something _almost_ professional?"

"But you could never prove it?" Dean continued, on a roll now with his questions.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous."

"Is he still alive?" Of course, I already figured that he's not. I sighed and sat down on the chair next to me.

"Nope," the detective sighed once more and sat down in his own chair, across from me. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret, but she never could."

There was silence in the room. Sam and Dean were still staring at the photos when Sam asked, "Where's she buried?"

"She wasn't," the detective was eyeing him. "She was cremated."

Of freaking course she was. Why wouldn't she be? "What about that mirror? In the photo. It would be awesome if it were in some evidence lock up. Please say it's in some evidence lock up," I breathed.

"Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago," he smiled kindly.

Just freaking great. "All right, next best thing then. Do you have the names of her family by any chance? _Please, _please, tell me that you at least have that."

He stood up, a eager finger in the air. Sifting through the box on his desk, he handed me a few papers. "That, that I do have."

Thanking the detective, we walked back to the car. "Good thinking with the family's address," Dean critiqued.

"Thanks. Sam can't be the only one in the family with the brains," I smiled as I slid in the backseat.

"I've got brains," Dean argued getting into the seat in front of me and closing his door.

"Well, _some_ brains," I stuck my tongue between my teeth while turning to face Sam. "Here," I tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the paper. "Call these numbers and see if any of them have the mirror. I'll just get frustrated so…"

"And say what?"

"I don't know. Tell them you're some fancy pants mirror collector or art deco freak or something. Make it up! This isn't your first day, you know the drill," I remarked.

Sam took the paper from me with a look, pulling out his cell and dialing the first number. I sat in the back of the car, after taking the list back from Sam, waiting to see how many names we would have to scratch out before we finally got what we needed. "Dean, can you hand me a marker? I'm gonna need something to cross these off with."

"No, no way, Becca. You are not getting another marker while sitting in this car. Just figure out some other way to scratch those names off," he snarled while looking at me in the rear view.

"Oh come on! Let it go, Dean. You don't see me griping because you turned me into a turtle earlier," I huffed as Sam stuck a finger in his ear and turned towards to the door to block out our background noise.

"Turned you into a turtle?"

"Yeah when you –" Sam held up a finger in the air, signaling for us to be quiet.

"Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks." He hung up and turned in his seat to face us. "You can get rid of the list, Becca. That was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques."

I looked at him, waiting for him to continue, and when he didn't I could hardly keep from jumping over the seat and strangling him. "WHERE IS IT?"

"Toledo," he looked at me like I was crazy.

"So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Dean asked, suddenly accelerating.

I nodded my head. "Well, her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow. Why else would she show up in one?" I tickled the back of Sam's neck lightly as I said the words with as spooky and frightening a tone as I could. He shuddered, and I laughed.

"Knock it off, Bec," Dean bit from the seat after I'd done it to him. "Hey, isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?"

Sam was absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck and cringing when I blew on it. "Yeah," he swatted towards where he thought my head had been. "There is. When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror and it draws in her spirit," Dean stated.

"Yeah but how could she move through like, a hundred different mirrors?" he was still swatting towards me as I continued to mess with him. "What are you doing?!" he spun around in the seat, meeting my "innocent" face and eyed me.

I just shot him a grin. "The goose bump game! You know, criss cross applesauce, spiders on your back, one here, one there, spiders in your hair. Tight squeeze, cool breeze, now you've got the shiveries…" Sam looked at me like I'd completely made it up. I so did not make it up, it's completely true, and it definitely gives you goose bumps. His look just made me sigh. "So what if the mirror _is_ the source? How do we get rid of it?"

"I was thinking we go all "baby Becca" about it," Dean smirked.

""Baby Becca"? What do you mean?" I pressed skeptically.

"Smash it," I rolled my eyes at his comment, along with Sam.

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe –" Sam's phone rang, cutting him off. "Hello?"

* * *

I was walking around the motel room, covering any reflective surface I could find. I was shoving spoons into drawers and throwing the aluminum beer cans into the trash, covering them the best I could with garbage. Draping a towel over the sink, I then moved on to the bathroom while Sam and Dean covered the windows, television and other things in main area of the room. Why were we Mary proofing our room? Because dumb ass Donna went and called her out, and now Charlie was freaking out, sitting on the bed, crying. I was silently thanking Dean for scolding her like he was, telling her to stay on the bed and not look at anything with a reflection.

I walked back into the room, just as Charlie asked if she was going to die.

"No. You're not gonna die… Well, not today anyway. I told you we would fix it, Charlie. And we will. But, you need to tell us what happened," I told her as I sat on a chair and faced her while Sam said down next to her.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it," she explained. No, Sherlock. I knew that, you came in freaking out about it.

I looked to Dean for some help, eyeing him with frustration. "That's not what she meant. Something happened, didn't it? In your life, some secret, where someone got hurt. We need you to tell us about it."

She looked at us all for some sort of sympathy, and only received it from Sam. When her eyes met my cold stare, they fell to the ground. "I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "_Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself_." And you know what I said? I said "_Go ahead_." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just… I didn't believe him, you know? I should have," she shoved her face in her hands and started crying. I felt instantly uncomfortable and stood up from the chair, walking around to a different side of the room. Sam was rubbing her back, watching her intently.

* * *

Dean was watching me as I stared out of the window as we drove to the store where the mirror was. "You know her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault."

"I know," I sighed, leaning off of and then back against the door, adjusting myself. "But it's just… I understand why she would want to keep it a secret, I get it. No one wants people to judge them like that. But why didn't she just tell someone? If she had told someone, this wouldn't be happening. She wouldn't be holed up in our room right now, avoiding spoons and the shiny lamp bases. I'm starting… I guess… I don't know." And I didn't know. I wanted to scream out that secrets were no good and we shouldn't have them anymore, but I knew that Sam had basically just swore me to keeping his dream, about Jessica getting hurt, a secret. I had this stupid internal conflict going on, and I just wanted it to stop.

"And we know that spirits don't see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary," Sam added.

I just looked through the window, "Yeah, I guess… But it's stupid. Mary was murdered. Do you think that maybe it's not that she's going after secrets but after killers instead?"

There was no answer to my question. Sam cleared his throat and avoided looking at Dean and me. "You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash the mirror."

"Why, what do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it," he stated.

I slid to the middle of the seat. "Sam, we don't know that's even going to work. Back when I did it, she just disappeared. Clearly it didn't do anything, because she's still here…"

"No, but we can't take the chance that it won't work can we?" his eyes had hope and I couldn't bare to break it. I just nodded my head.

"Well, who's gonna summon her?" Dean pressed.

"I will. She'll come after me," Sam responded. I shot my head up. What? No. He'd told me the story about the dreams; didn't that mean that it wasn't a secret anymore?

Dean pulled the car over to the road with such a force I had to grip onto their seat to keep from falling on my side or to the floor between the seats. "You know what, that's it. This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night – it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me. It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place." I sat there with wide eyes. Dean seriously just full on big brother snapped on Sam, something I hadn't seen him do in a long time.

"Sam doesn't blame you," I whispered when Sam didn't answer him. "But Dean's right. You have to stop blaming yourself, Sam. There's nothing you could have done. You have to –"

"I could have warned her," he cut over me and looked at me with those damn eyes. You know, the ones that are worse than a puppy. The ones that are brimming with tears that he hasn't even felt the pressure of yet, and hold that no longer starry shine that makes you just want to hug him and cry, and tell him everything will be okay.

Dean cut in with a sharp voice. "About what? You didn't know it was going to happen! You didn't know Jessica was going to die. And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean, we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway." Dean seemed so sure of it.

"No you don't," Sam bit.

I eyed him. "Sam, stop. You're not going in there to try and get her to come after you."

"I don't what?" Dean asked, completely ignoring me.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything," Sam responded. Except he'd told me, hadn't he?

Dean leaned forward, a confused and upset expression on his face. "What are you talking about?"

I can't believe that Sam just had the ability to smile right now, but he did. He had a smile on his face. "Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?"

Dean pulled back, surprised and stuck his tongue in his cheek, shifting the car back into drive. "No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it." I completely agree.

"Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this," Sam begged.

"No! You are not going to do it. Sam, I can't let you go in there and try to summon some dead chick when it probably won't _even work_! Let's just go in there and break the stupid mirror. If we break her mirror then she has no more ties, right? Please just quit this crazy crusade and agree to breaking the mirror," I was definitely begging now. I was clutching the seat in front of me to the point that my knuckles were white and there were probably ten crescent moon shaped indents that I really hoped Dean never noticed.

Sam turned and looked out of the window, not even answering me. I sighed and looked to Dean for some sort of help. He was glaring through the windshield, his jaw clenched so tightly that I thought it would break any second. No one said anything for the rest of the ride as we pulled up to the shop. I stood in back of Sam who was trying to pick the lock, next to Dean with a baseball bat and flashlight in my hands. I was scoping out the area, keeping an eye out for any incoming people. I sighed out of relief when the door clicked and swung open, closing it behind me quietly. I turned around and my face immediately fell. There were mirrors _everywhere_. Every. Freaking. Where. "Crap," I whined, dropping the bat out of shock.

"Well, that's just great," Dean huffed while I picked up my bat and took the picture he was offering me of Mary's mirror. "All right, let's start looking."

I walked down multiple aisles, jumping every time I caught myself or one of the guys in the reflection. "Guys, what if it's not even here? What if they already sold it or something?" I dragged my flashlight across a few nearby mirrors, landing on one and comparing it to the picture in my hand. "Uh, just kidding. It's right here." Dean came over and snatched the picture and compared it to the mirror himself. "I know how to find a mirror, Dean."

He gave me the "_knock it off_" face and stuffed the photo into his pocket. "You sure about this?" Sure about what? I snapped my head up and saw him looking over to Sam who was nodding his head.

"What? No! We said you aren't doing it, Sam! You are not to say her name. Dean! I thought you were on my side about this? You're just gonna let him do it? " When he didn't answer me and just stared at me blankly, I knew he was trying to hide emotion. I turned and glared at Sam. "No. It won't even work, Sam. You _know_ it won't work!" His face was stern and fallen, and that was when I knew. He hadn't told me the whole story. He still had some secret that would bring that ugly disease here to claw out his eyes. I felt the tears of anger building up behind my rims, and I pushed past Dean, the bat in my hand raised and pointed to his chest. "I thought…" Dean still didn't know about what we had talked about that day, and I couldn't bring myself to out Sam like that. It wasn't my place. "You son of a bitch," I choked the words past my lump. He'd lied to me. After I told him how much I needed the relationship we used to have back, he lied to me. "I thought you… You knew… Damn it, Sam!" I felt betrayed, cheated against… Dare I say,_ lied_ to? He couldn't meet my eyes. "I hope she comes for you," I growled. I knew the words would sting him, and I was glad. I choked on a buried sob.

Dean pulled me back as I started to shake the bat in Sam's face. "Becca, come on."

"No, Dean, you don't understand!"

"Becca, would you kno –" Dean was stronger than me and pulling me back even further, pinning my arms to my side.

"BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY!" I shouted. The words bounced off all of the reflective surfaces and I felt the hot tears drip down my face. I was so angry, and not just at Sam, but at this horrible haunting woman who had some sort of hold over him that apparently our sibling bond couldn't hold a candle to. I wanted her to know how angry I was, and when she came for him, I would kill her. Dean stood there, no longer having to struggle to keep me back, and I just stood there, glaring at the mirror that the ugly thing was attached to.

I hadn't stopped staring, and it felt like hours had passed. I saw lights bounce off of some of the mirrors, and I turned to the windows. "I'll go check that out," Dean announced. "Becca, come on."

"I'm not going. I'm going beat the crap out of this _thing_ that apparently my _brother_ feels more inclined to share a secret with."

Dean looked at Sam, who was watching me. "Whatever. Just stay here then," he stuck a finger towards my face, which I just turned away from and began glaring at the cursed mirror once more. "Smash anything that moves, except Sam," he eyed me.

I heard him walk away, and felt Sam's jacket brush my arm. I did my best to ignore him. "Becca…"

"Let's just kill this ugly piece of existence before you go trying to explain to me how sorry you are and how important it was that you didn't tell me because somehow you thought from the beginning that you would have to do this. I really don't need some sappy, crap moment right now. I need to beat her. Beat her to a pulp, and then, depending how angry I am with you afterwards, I will probably want to take this bat to your head, so you better pray to God, or Buddha, or whoever you want. Because, mark my words, Sam Winchester, I will be –" I turned to face him and froze. Behind him, in a small oval mirror on a dresser, was the gray and bloody face of Mary. "Duck," I ordered as I readied myself to smash the mirror to pieces as I swung my bat over Sam's now crouched down body.

A voice shot into the store from a different direction. "It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica." What?

I swung around to Sam, who was also searching for the voice. "You did _what_?! Sam, are you serious!? You should have told me you killed her, Sam, have you seen what holding in that type of secr –"

"BECCA! Now is _not_ the time!" he yelled over the voice that was louder now.

"You never told her the truth – who you really were." I looked behind me as Sam fell to the ground. In the mirror was, well, Sam. It was glaring down at him as he started to groan and writhe in pain. It was really getting him. She was really going after him. "But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning," I couldn't take hearing the voice. I picked up my bat and swung at the mirror, but it shifted over to another mirror. "You had them for _days _before she died. Didn't you?!" I slammed my bat into the next mirror, watching at the reflection shifted over to yet another mirror. "You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe that they were just dreams." I swung at the next mirror, and then the next, and then the next. There was so much shattered glass on the ground around Sam. "How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die?! You dreamt it would happen!"

There was a shattering to my side, and I spun around, seeing Dean standing there, his crowbar pulling back from the mirror he'd just destroyed. He began breaking mirrors that the reflection wasn't even in, he was breaking every mirror around us. I continued to destroy mirrors when Dean ran over to Sam and bent down to pick him up. "Sam, Sammy!"

"It's Sam." I stopped smashing mirrors and looked at them, a small, relieved smile on my face while a scoffed out chuckle came out of my throat. If his tone was a relaxed and pain free as it sounded, I was so past what he did earlier. He still had his eye balls, and he was alive.

"God, are you okay?" Dean asked in response to seeing the blood dripping down Sam's face.

"Uh, yeah."

I went over and helped Dean lift Sam up. "Come on, guys. We gotta go. Now," I demanded. Sam was wrapped around my shoulder as Dean took my bat and grabbed his discarded crowbar. We were almost past the end of the mirrors when I froze. There was a gray, eyeless woman crawling out of one of them. "Shit," I gasped.

Dean was instantly at our sides. "I thought you said she couldn't leave the mirror!"

"She couldn't! I swear! But apparently she's seen _The Ring _and learned some new tricks, Dean! I don't know!"

She started crawling towards us, causing all three of us to fall to the ground. I felt the glass pierce into my knees, and there was a warm substance dripping down my cheeks. My eyes burned worse than anything I've experienced. There was a sharp pain and it felt like it was behind my eye and it was pulling, causing me to drop Sam and clutch at the side of my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt more of the blood to drip down my cheeks, and the sharp pain just got worse. Shoving my palms over my closed lids, I told mentally told myself that it was the only thing that could keep them in my head.

"You killed them! All those people! You killed them!" Then I heard choking and the pain in my eyes receded until they didn't hurt at all anymore. I slowly opened them, and saw blood seeping out from under a large, destroyed frame.

I felt someone pulling me up, and I snapped my eyes upward instinctively. "Becca, you okay?" I nodded to Sam's words as he searched my face and then used his sleeve to wipe the blood of my cheek. "Is now a better time to say I'm sorry?"

I nodded my head as a tear fell and I pulled him to me tightly. "I'm sorry too, Gigantor. I'm so sorry. I will never ever wish for something to get you again. I am the worst sister in the whole wide world, and you should feed me to some alligators or something. I don't care that you didn't tell me your dream, I'm just so, _so_, sorry, Sam. You never ever have to tell me the dream, ever. I won't ever ask you again. I promise. I won't ask you to tell me anything if you don't want to… Just please don't get eaten by a mirror." I felt him squeeze me back and set his chin on my head.

"I didn't kill her, like the reflection said... I saw it, but I didn't do anything. It went on night after night, and it seemed like it was never going to end. But I just ignored it, Becca, I just thought they were dreams… Nothing important, you know? I saw all of it. I saw the smoke, the fire, the… the blood… all of it. Honest Bec. That's all of it. That's what they were about," he whispered as we rocked slowly in the glass.

I just squeezed him tighter. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay, I'm gonna help you through this."

"Hey, whisper twins. You about ready to go, here?" I looked past Sam and saw Dean standing near the door, tools in hand, and wiping the blood and glass off of him. I pulled away from Sam and we made our way through the glass. "So, you guys think this is what? Six hundred years of bad luck?"

"So what you're saying is I'm never going to be rid of you huh?" I smiled while squeezing Sam tighter to my side.

* * *

Charlie was sitting next to me in the back seat of the Impala, she was sitting on the leather, and I was sitting on a towel, because _apparently_ my bloody wounds from the glass could get on the leather and then he'd have to sanitize the seat. "So this is really over?" Charlie questioned as we pulled up to her house.

"Yeah, it's over," I sighed with a smile.

"Thank you," she shook my hand and then nodded to the guys.

She was walking towards the house when Sam called her name and caused her to turn back. "Charlie? Your boyfriend's death… You really have to try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen." I smiled at him and slid both me and my stupid towel to the middle of the back seat.

Dean reached over and nudged Sam. "That's good advice. But now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

Sam turned to face Dean. "Look… you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself," he winked at me with a smile, which I gladly returned. "Becca, how about you throw out some songs, see if I can guess them."

"Serious? You don't even like the songs I do."

"Yeah, well, call it a bonding moment."

I situated myself on the seat, ready, and excited. "Okay. _Duuuuuunnnnnn dundun dundun dunnununnunnn du _–"

"_Back in Black_, AC/DC," Dean stated.

"Dean! These are for Sam!" I bit as I snapped my head towards him.

"You didn't say that," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, thinking up a new song. "Well, it was implied." What I failed to notice was the look that Dean and Sam had given each other, grins included. "All right, _Sam_, ready? _Dundundunnun dundundunnu _–"

"_Sweet Home Alabama_, Skynyrd."

"DAMN IT, DEAN!" I yelled, only to have their laughter meet my ears.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen.**

**If you guys don't normally read these bold thoughts of mine up here, please make sure you do today! I have some pretty important things to say to you all.**

**One. In case you didn't know, I am one of the lucky people who just shoves out all this money they don't have to go to school for four months at a time and then want to stick their head in the oven because it sucks. Shorter terms - I'm in college. And classes have started up again, and I already have way more homework than I should. I'm actually not doing my homework NOW to get this out. (Don't tell my Chinese teacher.) Therefore, I now only have like 2.5 days tops to work on new chapters with no interruptions. Due to this, I probably won't get a whole lot more than one to two chapters a week. I apologize. I actually feel really bad if I don't get them out for you, hence me not doing homework.**

**Two. I also work, which means even less time for chapter updates.**

**Three. The lovely Jenmm31 has started a story of her own! (Cheer, people) You should all go read it!**

**Four. If you aren't already, go read the stories on sweetkiwi604's page too!**

**Five. Both of them are are in my favorite authors and stories tabs on my page. MAKE SURE YOU REVIEW THE STORIES. It's those reviews that make us crank out stuff faster people. We like to know who enjoys the stories.**

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers, PMers, and list adders. You are my favorite. :)**

**Okay, I think that is all I really had to say to you all. Just please, bear with me about the time span between new chapters. I will do my absolute best, but really, it's day three of school and I already know it's going to be a struggle. **

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"Alright, I figure we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight," Dean was explaining to us as we pulled into a gas station. I don't really know why he pretends like we have any say in the matter. He just drives where he wants, when he wants, as fast as he wants, making us listen to the awesome music he wants… The list really can go on. He caught my eyes in the rearview and I nodded to him as I looked over my thick book, and we both looked over to Sam. Nothing. The guy didn't even acknowledge Dean. I looked into his reflection in the mirror on the side of the door, and I saw his eyes were open. So he wasn't sleeping, maybe he's a zombie. Dean nodded to me with his grin, you know which one, the one where he thinks he's cool. Anyway, he nodded to me and turned to face Sam. "Sam wears women's underwear."

I closed my book. "Oh? Lacy or silk?"

"Lacy."

"Thongs or bikinis?"

"Thongs. Definitely thongs."

"I've been listening," Sam sighed, not even defending himself. Does my twin, in fact, wear lacy thongs? I'm for sure going through his bag when we stop. I feel like he and I will be having a talk later. "I'm just busy."

He was staring at his phone, just like he had been for the last two hours. I don't have a fancy shmancy phone like geek boy, but I don't see the addiction. There are _so many_ buttons! I could hardly answer Sam's the other day when Dean called. It was a struggle, and I gave up. But Sam definitely knew how to work it and I think if it's possible for someone to be addicted to a technological device, he definitely is. It's actually scary. I bet that becomes some new monster too. College student with phone for hands and it text messages you to death. For sure way to kill? Dump water on it. I've already taken out one – skank bank – and I'm sure I can take out more.

I leaned over the back of the seat, looking over his shoulder to try and see what he was looking at. "Whatchya doin'?"

"Reading e-mails," he spoke just as lazily and uncaring as before. Definitely a zombie. I looked at Dean and Dean looked at me, and then rolled his eyes before getting out of the Impala to fill it with gas.

I stretched further over Sam's shoulder to try and read the e-mail. "You get e-mails? Who from? I thought I was your only friend."

Dean leaned into my window after putting the pump into the gas tank. "What about me?"

"Dean, you're every body's _special_ friend. You know that," I patted his cheek with a smug grin and then turned back to Sam. It took about forty seconds before Dean realized the meaning behind my words, and then I got a Wet Willy. If I get an ear infection because of his nasty, dirty germs, I'm gonna hide his keys. "Sam." He was back to reading his e-mails. I snapped my fingers in his ear, causing him to jump and look at me. "Whoooooo are you e-mailing?"

"My friends at Stanford." Your friends at Stanford. Dear God, Sam had a social life! Oh man, I am so proud of geek boy!

Of course though, just as I'm about to ask some more interesting questions such as, "_What are they about?_" "_Do you talk about me?_" "_Are any of them hot?_" "_Do you talk about me?_" Dean cut in and had to be all insulting. "You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?"

Ah, Dean. The man of many thought out words. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him as he was watching the total crawl up to a horrifying number. "Why shouldn't he keep in touch with his college friends, Dean? Hell, if I had friends, I would for sure be telling them about all the mean crap you do to me. Wait, Sam, what do you tell your friends about me?! You better not make me out to be some mean, horrible sis –"

Dean cut me off by slapping a hand over my mouth, through the window. "What _do_ you tell 'em, Sammy? You know, about where you've been, what you've been doin'? Dude, are you serious?" He glared at me and pulled back his hand before wiping it on his pant leg. "Did you just bite my hand?"

I shrugged my shoulders. Like it wasn't going to happen. Come on now. "Who cares what he tells them, as long as it's not "_I go around murdering people_", don't tell them that, Sam. They probably already find it hard enough to like you."

"I tell 'em I'm on a road trip with my big brother and _baby _sister. I tell 'em I needed some time off after Jess," he explained. Oh, so you get defensive because I say you're unlikeable but not when Dean and I say you wear women's lacy thongs. What a boob.

"Oh, so you lie to 'em," Dean scoffed.

Getting out of the car, and making sure to smack Dean with the door, I stretched. "What should he tell them? "_Oh, you know, I just hunt down ghosts and plane crashing demons_"? If you're gonna do that, Sam, you might as well tell them that your name is Dan Aykroyd and that you're a _Conehead _too. Use your brain, Dean. Don't even tell them anything, Sam. It's really not worth the headache to try and explain that you're not crazy and that they should sleep with salt packets and silverware under their pillows."

"No. You guys, I tell them… just not… everything."

"Yeah, that's called lying," Dean eyed us both. "I mean, hey, man, I get it, it's like Becca said, tellin' the truth is far worse."

I went and grabbed the squeegee to wash the back windshield of the car, and Dean swiped it from my hand so fast that I actually froze and had to look down to see if I still had it in my grasp. "So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?" I heard Sam ask. I turned to see the squeegee back in its bucket of solution, and reached forward only to receive an arm blockading my way. I looked up to see Dean still eyeing Sam, and shrug. "You're serious?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

"I'm only going to clean the back window for you, Dean. Relax. And no, Sam. He's being dumb. Don't listen to him. Even Dad has contacts that he still probably keeps in touch with. I can't see you just dropping these people after they were your friends for over two years. Dean, _get out of the way_!"

Dean shoved me to the side. "You're not wiping down my baby with that dirty ass solution. And Sam, look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can't get close to people, period." He was still fighting to keep me from reaching the squeegee and its bucket. If I hadn't been on a mission before, I totally was now. "Becca, go get some soda or something, you're driving me insane."

I crossed my arms. "First off, if you don't get close to people, you might as well just leave Sam and I here at the gas station, because you're close to us you idiot."

"Family's different," he argued pulling out a couple bills for me.

"_You're_ different," I bit as I snatched the money away from him. "Sam, I say you just keep your friends. I wish I had someone to distract me from this over grown ape," I smirked at Dean and nudged him before I headed for the store.

I couldn't help but laugh obnoxiously loud when I heard Sam hit Dean back with "You're kind of anti-social, you know that?"

Stepping into the gas station, I quickly scanned the area and saw no one, minus the strawberry haired girl behind the counter who was chewing on gum and flipping through a book. She looked mega bored, and I chuckled. At least I had Dean to keep me entertained while we were on car rides… until he teamed up with Sam and started making my life hell. I scowled at the thought. Quickly grabbing three waters, I found the little pie things that pretty much all gas stations have. Wrapping my small hands around as many as possibly could, I popped a few in the microwave by the nachos and set them in a plastic container. Guess who's having pie. That's right, me and geek boy. Grabbing a couple roller hot dog nasty things, I decided that this was probably about the best I could do with the food being nauseating or otherwise dipped, filled, stuffed, glazed, and baked in nothing but sugar. I set everything on the counter, and I eyed the girl. She didn't even look over her copy of _Life of Pi_. "Okay, so I got this and the Impala on pump four," I told her sliding the money under the plastic divider.

"What Impala?" she asked in a bored tone.

"The one on pump _four_," I spoke slowly and made sure to enunciate all my words. Was this girl as dumb as she was lazy at her job?

She closed her book and looked out of the window beside her before looking at me like I was stupid. "There is _no_ Impala on pump four."

What? I quickly looked to where the car had been, and she was right, it was gone. Dean freaking took off without me. I know I said that if he didn't keep contacts he should leave me here, but I wasn't serious. "You got a phone here?" I asked her.

She pointed a chipped, blue finger nail to the corner of the store where a grimy looking pay phone waited. This girl was probably the most least helpful person on the planet. I sighed and stuck my tongue on the roof of my mouth, waiting for her to hand me a bag for all of my purchases, before making my way to the pay phone. Okay, gross. Is that ear wax _on_ the phone? I leaned over and opened one of the car wipes containers before wiping down the nasty device. I started dialing the idiot's number… It rang six times and then went to voice-mail. "_This is Dean, I can't come to the phone right no –_" That son of a... I redialed the number and waited.

"Hello?" Sam seemed be confused.

"Hey, so um, I was just, you know, wondering… You guys missing anything? I'm pretty sure it's like, five foot seven, chestnut colored hair and bright, beautiful, green eyes that are glaring death at you and hoping you get smacked in the face with a bird… It kind of looks like me, and sounds like me, and _is _me!"

"Becca?"

"Sam! Where are you!"

There was a fumbling on the other line and I vaguely heard _"Dude, you ditched Becca."_

_"What? Shit!"_

_"You forgot she was in the store?"_

_"You didn't remember either, dude!"_

_"Dean!"_

_"Maybe if you weren't reading all those stupid e-mails!"_

I whistled into the receiver, as loudly as I could. "HEY!" There was a rustling and the muttering of "_crap, God damn phone_" and I'm pretty sure Dean dropped me. So not only did he leave me here, he dropped me. I'm getting a lawyer and suing for abuse.

"Damn, Becca, that was my ear!" Dean groaned. Lies. That was the floor. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't in the car?" Morons, I'm related to morons.

I rolled my eyes and placed a hand on the wall of the phone box, gripping it as tightly as I could so that I didn't actually reach _through_ the phone and strangle him like Homer does to Bart. "_How_ was I supposed to know that you would be clueless and leave me here? I'm not a random black lady who knows these things, Dean. I can't just randomly say "_Hey, don't forget to not forget me_". I mean, do I _sound _like a lady named Miss Cleo?"

Was that the sound of him rolling his eyes? Oh hell no. "We're turning around now to come get you." Damn right you are.

"I didn't mean it when I said to leave me here!" I hollered into the phone as the call ended. I hit the phone against the top of the phone box thing and I growled when the girl yelled for me to leave the store.

I slammed the receiver down one final time – for good measure – and stalked off to the door of the gas station and waited outside, tapping my foot impatiently. The Impala quickly slammed to a stop in front of me, Dean grinning up as though he'd done nothing wrong. I got in and closed the door as hard as I possibly could before situating myself. "I can't believe you left me here at this stupid gas station, Dean!"

Dean turned around in his seat and stared at me, shocked. "Sam forgot too!"

"No he didn't, don't you go trying to blame him!" I seethed as I handed out the waters and convenience store hot dogs. Sam's grinning face was totally worth it. Ha, take that Dean, we're teaming up on _you_ now.

Snatching the water from my hand, he was glaring at me before practically spiking the bottle into the seat. "Yes he did! If he would have remembered, we wouldn't have left you here!" Dean's sausage fingers were waving around as he pointed from a smirking Sam to a glowering me.

I just frowned at him and rolled my eyes. He is such a boob. The biggest boob. Ever. How does he even get through the day? "How do you even forget when you don't have someone in the car?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, calming down a bit. "Well, when you're back there with your nose stuck in some stupid book, you usually don't make any noise, so I figured you were just reading. Trust me, you don't usually shut up otherwise. It's like riding with the Lamb Chop song or something." He seemed to be telling the truth, but that didn't stop me from jumping right back up in volume and octaves as I started flinging appendages around and yelling. And did he seriously just compare me to the obnoxious Lamb Chop song?! One, that just shows how old you are, you jerk face. Two, I love that song. Three, I will sing that song. You just _wait_!

"… Dean, you idiot, you sent me into the store!"

"Well, I forgot!" he bit back just as loudly.

"Yeah, but you're supposed to remember!" He grumbled something that I bet he _thought _was incoherent, but I heard it, and I threw a bottle cap at his head. I pulled out the pies and grabbed some forks. "Sam, you want pie?"

Dean didn't even put the car into drive. "You got pie?" he looked down to where I was offering some to Sam.

"Yeah, _I_ got pie. And I was _gonna_ give you some, but you _forgot_ me. I still don't get how you forget someone! Someone who has been riding in the back of your car for like, EVER! Dean, you legit just forgot your sister. Your _baby_ sister, as in the youngest. What would Dad say?"

"If you give me that pie, Dad will never have to know."

"How does that work!? Do you even understand the concept of blackmailing?" I screeched as Sam took the offered pie and fork. "What was so important that you just _had_ to roll out of town before making sure you had everything?!"

Sam was eating his pie with bites that were deliberately making Dean not only drool, but narrow his eyes with jealousy. "My friend e-mailed me –"

"Is he hot?"

"_Her_ name is Rebecca," he glared at me as Dean smirked. My, how the faces have turned. "Her brother, Zack, was charged for murder."

I froze, trying to swallow down my bite of pie before I started talking. Whoa, Sam's friends are murderers? Forget me being stranded _again_, I was more freaked out that my brother was hanging out with the kids who created their own extracurricular activities while at Stanford. I shoved the pie into Dean's chest, which he greedily accepted and started eating it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Murder? Okay, I take it back, Sam. You are _not_ allowed to e-mail these people anymore. Just give me that phone, and the minute I learn how, I'm deleting them from it. _Murderers_?! And you thought this life," I signaled to Dean and myself, "was dangerous!?"

Sam rolled his eyes, setting his pie on the seat between him and Dean. "Becs, relax. Zack isn't a killer, okay? He's been framed. He wouldn't kill anyone."

"And you're sure of this?" I pressed. He nodded his head and waited for me to answer. "Okay," I sighed. "If these guys really are your friends, then I'm all for helping them. But, if this guy_ is _a murderer, I'm gonna be pissed that we went looking for him, because you know that's going to end badly. And then, we will be having a discussion about how to make a good judge of character, and about the fact that you wear ladies lacy thongs."

Sam reached down to grab his pie, only to find nothing on the seat. We both looked at Dean who had stuffed chipmunk cheeks, and a grin. "Uh mmfgh yyi," he muttered through his food while pie filling and crust clung to the skin around his mouth. At least that's what I _think_ he muttered. It was really hard to understand, and he kind of just sounded like a drowning troll. God, he's disgusting. Have I said I'm related to children? Because I am. Idiot, mannerless, children. He grinned wider before setting the now empty containers on the seat and moving the car to the parking lot exit while wiping his face with his hand. Total boob.

* * *

I was standing next to Sam as we waited outside of this door. I checked my wrist, which didn't have a watch, to see how long we'd been waiting. Yep, just as I suspected. About twenty freckles now. God, where was this Rebecca person? Finally the door opened, and the girl had the biggest smile on her face when she realized it was Sam. Well, and me… and I suppose Dean, too. "Oh my God, Sam!"

Sam laughed. He seriously like, man giggled. "Well, if it isn't little Becky."

Becky? Here we go. Nobody better call me Becky. If she goes by Becky, I will change her name, both to her face and her back. "You know what you can do with that little Becky crap," she beamed before practically tackling Sam to the ground. One, I wish she would have tackled him. Two, if she really hates being called Becky that much, her new name may become best friend.

"Uh, Hi," I said pushing my way forward when she and Sam kind of didn't break out of their Stanford reunion moment. "So, Sam here got your e-mail. Along with any e-mail you've ever sent him… It's kind of all he does. I'm thinking of checking him into Blackberry rehab."

She let go of him and didn't even look at me. Dude, those were some seriously good and at least man-giggle worthy Sam quips. No, we may not be best friends after all. "I didn't think that you would come here," she breathed to Sam, seeming to be surprised that that was the reason we'd come.

Dean stepped forward with an extended hand. "Dean. Older brother," he grinned as she shook his hand. "That's Becca. Baby sister."

"Hi," she smiled before turning her attention back to Sam.

"Hi," he grinned, clearly trying to act like there had been some sort of flirtation behind the greeting. Go ahead and brush off the rejection you just received, it's cool, I'll wait.

I rolled my eyes and laughed at Dean, trying to cover my mouth and play it off as a cough when he turned around and smacked my hand down from my face. I laughed harder, straight in his face. "We're here to help. Whatever we can do," Sam told her before she invited us inside.

Strolling through this totally luxurious home, behind Dean, we were both wide eyed as we took in the surroundings. Holy, nice bat cave. "This is a _real _nice place, man," I caught her eyes and smiled.

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zack's free," she explained. I nodded my head, like I knew what she was talking about when in reality, I really only got that she was staying with her parents. Okay, yeah, it all made sense, but she just rambled it off so quickly that I was kind of just surprised.

"Where are your folks?" Sam asked when she'd continued leading us through room after room.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're on their way home now for the trial," she told us as we finally stopped in the kitchen. Dude, your parents just _live _in Paris for half the year? God, now this super nice house made so much more sense. They were clearly rich, like _rich, _rich, not just "_I saved twenty bucks_" rich. "Do you guys want a beer or something?" she offered.

Yes, you are for sure now Becca-knighted as best friend. "Yes, please!" I smiled while Dean started to take her up on the offer, too.

Leave it to the tall one to be all "_no fun for you_". "No, thanks. So, tell us what happened." Sam. I'm pretty sure that this story will be way more interesting if I have beer to drink. I probably won't be annoyed as easily either. He really doesn't make the best decisions at times.

"Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing." Dude, she just started crying, out of nowhere. I froze and looked at Dean. What the hell was happening? "So, he, he called 9-1-1, and the police… they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police… They have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight." Well, maybe you had more than a few and you were way more drunk than you thought. It's actually a really plausible possibility if you just think about it and don't take Sam's side immediately. Gotta think things through, right? No, you don't. You answered incorrectly.

Anyway, Sam was the only one who seemed to be able to answer her. I was still all "deer in the headlights" and Dean seemed just as conflicted as I felt. "You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack's house."

"We could," Dean added. Well, I wasn't a deer any more, but I was still in surprise. I thought when we usually go sneaking into crime scenes we called it _sneaking_ because we _snuck_ in and _no one _knew about it. Now we're just telling people?

"Why? I mean, what could you do?" Rebecca asked. Honest? Nothing, until we get more answers.

I thought it was best to be honest with her, I mean if we were telling her about our plans to break laws anyway. However, Sam stopped me. "Well, not Becca and me, not much. But, Dean's a cop." Dean laughed, but I had this scoff-laugh "_you're clearly out of your mind_" sound come out.

"Detective, actually," he answered. No you aren't!

"Really?" Rebecca's eyes were wide and she was probably a billion times more hopeful than she should have been. Dean nodded his head "yes", I shook my head "no", Sam stepped on my foot, I glared at Sam… It was a magical moment. "Where?"

"Bisbee, Arizona," Dean lied. "But I'm off-duty now." Ha, off-duty? How about never on duty?

Rebecca seemed taken back. Um, weren't you just like super excited two seconds ago? Someone's sure bipolar. "You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just… I don't know."

I turned to look at Sam when he spoke. "Bec, look." Oh that's right. I'm no longer the only Bec in the room. This is going to be very old in about two shakes. "I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove he's innocent."

She eyed us skeptically before she finally just gave in. It was probably the best decision. "Okay. I'm gonna go get the keys," she announced before leaving the room.

I turned and smacked Sam in the chest. "Dean's a detective now? I know we usually tell people we're something we're not, but I thought Rebecca was your friend."

"Yeah, you're a real straight shooter with them," Dean added while I nodded and threw a hand up as if to say "_see what I mean_".

"Look, Zack and Becky need our help," Sam argued.

"I just don't think it's our problem," Dean sighed looking at Sam.

Sam was right. We'd agreed to come here because of him, and I wasn't going to back out on him now. I nudged Dean and looked up at him. "Come on, Dean. We've totally done way more on way less information. Well, at least I think we have… We have haven't we?" I turned to look at Sam who nodded at me and looked determined. "Yeah, we have. So why don't we just do this one for Sam, huh? He said that Zack, his name _is_ Zack, right?" I looked at Sam and received an eye roll. Screw you, I'll rename the sucker then. "Whatever, yeah, Zack, he was supposedly in two places at once. What do we know can be in two places at the same time? Not something human, ergo, it's supernatural, ergo, it's totally our business."

I was trying to bring Dean's mindset into the case while I eyed him and waited with high hopes. We had to do this for Sam. He was having a hard enough time being away from his friends, I didn't see the harm in allowing him to help them out. If it made him feel like we, as a team, were stronger and more about each other, then I would just make Dean go wait in the motel room while Sam and I did the case ourselves. He caught my eyes with a hard face, and I saw them soften. I lowered my lids and stuck out my bottom lip just a smidge, making sure to glace and my feet and then bring my big eyes up and look at him through the lashes… YES! Ah, it always works. His jaw tightened but those eye lids lowered in his sorta sympathetic and totally giving in to his little sister way. I. Am. Awesome. Dean just groaned as he ran a hand over his face and looked up at the ceiling. I win.

* * *

We stepped out of the car, and all kind of just stared up at Zack's house. Was Sam really going to be able to go in there? Hell, because it was his friend, he'd probably be more focused knowing him. I'd probably flip out if I knew that it was him or Dean on the chopping block. But, seeing as we are twins, of course we're completely weird and not totally alike. "You're sure this is okay?" Rebecca sighed as she stuck her hands in her pockets, but couldn't tear her eyes from the house.

"Of course," I smiled while I walked with Sam to stand beside her. "I mean, Dean _is _an officer of the law." I winked up at Sam who just nudged me with a serious face. Like Rebecca would even catch on. "Let's go," I sighed leading the way up to the porch.

I took the offered key and unlocked to door, stepping in ahead of everyone. There was blood _everywhere_. The walls, the furniture, the playing cards… It smelled bad, too. "Bec, you wanna wait outside?" I heard Sam ask as I slowly looked around and followed Dean farther into the room.

"Sam, I'm already in the house," I answered. Everyone's eyes shot to me, and I could feel the blush rise in my cheeks. Oh yeah. I coughed and just walked back over to Dean who was smirking at me like I was an idiot. Thanks, bro. You're totally helping.

"No. I wanna help," I heard Rebecca answer as she entered the house and her jacket rustled against the police tape.

God, this place was a mess. I sighed, not being able to look around anymore. It was actually heart breaking, and I felt like I was going to contaminate something. That would bring down everything. Besides, I felt weird knowing that I sort of had a direct link to this person, through Sam. That makes it a little more on the line, if you know what I mean. And I don't even know the kid. "So uh," I had to clear my throat a few times before I could try to sound professional and not like I just wanted her to answer my questions and then leave so I could talk with Sam and Dean. "Rebecca, could you maybe tell us what the police told you might have happened?"

Is she crying again? I get it, lady, you're upset, but you crying this much isn't going to help. Cry when we aren't in a room full of blood and your tears won't fall on the floor and leave DNA. "Well, there's no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers, they're already talking about a plea bargain. Oh, God," she cried while looking around the room.

I scrunched up my face, and pulled on Sam's jacket sleeve as he started to walk past me. "Okay, so I didn't do lawyer school, and I watch way too little court TV, so please tell me what a plea bargain is."

Sam smiled quickly to Rebecca who slowly walked away before looking down at me and pulling me to the side. "It's a negotiation where the defendant –"

"Whoa, Sam, little words," I shook my head. We were already too far into college talk. I'm the type that needs small words and direct phrases. It really is just easier that way. You remember the corporeal thing, right? That was a nightmare. I actually Googled that crap by the way. Yeah. It means having a physical matter. Laymen's terms? You have a body. I know! Freaking Sam.

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes. We can't all be super smart like you. "It's when someone says they're guilty because they get a smaller charge and the guy accusing them drops a more serious charge."

"Oh. Thank you," I smiled up at him. Now was it really that hard for him to just say that? Probably not, so he should just pull those lacy undies out of his butt and relax a second. And stop staring at me with a pathetic "_I can't believe we're related look_" because that look is specifically reserved for Dean. I walked away from Sam, and over to Rebecca where she was looking down at a picture of who I assume were Zack and Emily. Unless her brother just keeps the pictures that come in the frame or something. If you had a family like mine, you probably would. "Hey, Rebecca, I know this has to got to be really hard to do right now," I spoke softly as I used a Kleenex to take the frame from her hands and set it back down, making sure to wipe her prints off. "But, I want to let you know, if Zack did do this," she choked a sob, "okay, I mean, in order for us to prove that Zack _didn't _do this, it means that someone else did. Okay? Now, that means it could be anyone, _anyone_. Do you maybe have any idea as to who? It could be like, a jealous ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend, an old enemy… anything?" Holy crap, I just pulled that off. Man, maybe Sam isn't the only girly one after all. Hell yeah!

She shook her head and I offered her the box of tissues when I thought for sure she would freak out and start crying even harder. Well, at least I tried. I sighed when she took the box and began walking over to Dean when she put her hand on my arm. "Wait, there was something, about a week before any of this happened. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes – Zack's clothes," she explained. Clothes? Who the hell besides the homeless would break in and steal clothes. "The police," she continued, "they don't think it's anything, I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed." I nodded my head as she finished her story. Yeah, but for clothes? Um, if that's your brother in that photo, he for sure isn't wearing any Gucci or Dolce. That's probably more of a Target brand; meaning not exactly break-in and steal worthy.

"Dean," I said in a hushed tone as I stepped away from Sam who was now consoling a teary Rebecca, "did you hear what she was telling me?" He nodded his head, still looking down at some papers. "What do you think it is? I mean, what would steal Zack's clothes and murder his chick. Assuming that it's the same thing that is… I'm assuming it's the same thing, by the way."

He shot me a look that made me smile with pride. It was that look that says he obviously knew what I was talking about and he thinks I'm a freak and he doesn't want to be associated with me. At least I know my duties of annoying little sister are being successfully fulfilled. "I don't know, but I think we should check Dad's journal for some clues, and then go from there. Come on," he placed his hand on my back and led me towards the front door. "We gotta talk with Sam and we're not really gonna be able to do that with this Becky chick hanging around the whole time."

"Think we can ditch her?" I whispered up as he shot me a smirk and opened the door where there was a crazy dog barking at us from next door.

Rebecca was suddenly right behind me and speaking into my ear, and I jumped. "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog."

"What happened?" Dean questioned while I tried to catch my breath and regain my composure. I bet Sam made her do that on purpose.

She shrugged, almost unable to decide on a good enough explanation. "He just changed."

He just changed? Do pets often _just change_? I never had a dog, so I don't know. "Do you remember _when _he changed?" I pushed as I stared at him. Ew, look at the drool hanging from his jaw. If I ever get a dog, he will not be a drooly one. Gross.

"I guess around the time of the murder," she sighed before we, or they, followed by me, when Sam tugged me behind him and then had to catch me before I went hitting the ground with my face, stepped down the stairs towards the Impala.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen.**

**Whoa, I got another chapter out! Yay! I happened to have a bit of extra time this weekend between the babysitting, work, school, homework, and playing taxi, so I thought, WHY NOT! Hopefully, I can get another one out before my real life starts again on Sunday evening. Cross your fingers!**

**I don't know that I got very far into the episode, but I tried to show a little more of my own ideas and a bit more sibling-ness between the characters. I hope you enjoy it and aren't too disappointed.**

**Thank you to the amazing Jenmm31 for going over some ideas with me. :) You are too kind.**

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* * *

"Well, that's adorable," I told Sam as I looked at the photo that was stuck onto the fridge. He was smiling and had his arm wrapped around Rebecca and Zack. Yeah, that's right, both of them. That's how long his arms are. Freak of nature? Oh yeah. He just nodded his head, an upset look on his face, and I knew he was trying to be strong. "Sam, you don't have to do this case, if you're gonna get upset like this. Dean and I can handle it. Right, Dean?" I turned to ask him.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because you're a reliable sidekick. Sammy, if you leave me alone with her, only one of us will come out in a whole piece," he threatened.

Pssh, yeah, me. I just turned back to Sam, who was still looking at the photo. "Seriously though, Sam, if you don't want to -"

"No, no. I'm good, Becca. Thanks," he sighed, looking down at me and smiling.

I nodded my head and went back to looking at the photo in front of me. "Hey, how come you don't look that happy in any of our photos together? You kind of always have a forced grin. You seem genuinely happy here. Do you dislike me or something?" I teased pointing to his face in the captured scene.

"Well, you know the saying "_you can't choose your family_"? It was made because of us having to be around _you_," he smirked at me. Was that some sort of dig? Holy crap, I think my brother just said he didn't like me. What a jerk! Man, he has been hanging out with Dean and me for _way_ too long now.

I glared up at him with a smirk on my face. "Oh yeah? Well the phrase so –"

"So!" Dean cut in before I could finish my thought. "The neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed."

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal," Sam explained finally turning away from the picture.

I nodded my head. "Well, Sam, you aren't normal, so maybe the dog just didn't like your face," I suggested before attempting to walk away. Yeah, talk about a mistake.

Pinning my arms to my side with one of his own arms and making me immobile against him, he stuck his opposite elbow into my back, sending my chest and torso forward. I don't know if you're a contortionist or whatever, but _I_ am not, and my body doesn't bend that way. My feet were slipping and I felt myself heading towards the ground. "Ow, ow, ow, Sam, stop!" I tried to move out of his grasp, but it wasn't working. "SAM! Ow, come on, stooooooop!" Suddenly, my knees hit the ground, _hard_, and then Sam's elbow wasn't in my back, but instead his knuckles were digging into my skull. SERIOUSLY, WHO STILL DOES NOOGIES?! Picking myself up from the ground, with the help of the counter, I rubbed at my knees. "God, Sam, that was a little intense," I spoke softly, allowing my eyes to water. "That really hurt." I shot him a look of pain and his face instantly fell. Now, if he had been smart, he probably would have looked over to see Dean's look of confusion and suspicion and he would have known that as soon as he came to make sure I was okay, I was going to spin him around and pin his arm to his back. Which I did, and he did struggle. Even if he tells you he _didn't_, he did. If _I_ had been smart, I would have realized that Sam's about eighty-seven inches taller than me – it's really only nine but, dude, it seems so much taller – and his arms are just as long. Me holding him like that backfired, and I was then in a headlock.

As I was fighting Sam's lock around my head, I could feel my face getting purple. Sam just looked up at Dean, not even seeming to be phased that I was in his arms. Dean shook his head at me and just continued conversing with Sam. What the hell? Dean, you're supposed to stop Sam when he does this, not let me turn into a Smurf! "Maybe Fido saw somethin'?" Dean pressed to Sam, who I felt nod his head behind me.

"So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?" Sam didn't even seem to be struggling against my tugs and pulls on him. What is this guy, The Hulk? Funny, I would have imagined Dean to be the one to turn green and throw punches. He kind of looks like the type with a tiny temper, doesn't he?

Dean just shook his head and ran his fingers up and down his chin. Is he contemplating this? I think my vision's blurring. I tapped Sam's arm, and he didn't even release his grip. Dude, I am a girl. Sam, stop. I tried to call out his name, but it just came as sputters, and I think I spit on Dean's face. "No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. Did he just flex? Dear God, I'm dying.

"Yeah, Sam, let up. She looks like a plum," Dean sighed.

Sam removed his grip, and I instantly fell to the ground, gasping for air. That was too much, too, too much. I glared up at him, and do you know what that overgrown tree did!? He shrugged. He. Shrugged. Like it was nothing! "Damn it, Sam, I am a girl, you know," I bit as I once again used the counter for support in standing.

He just smirked and rolled those dumb eyes at me. "You don't act like a girl, Becs."

"Friggen, I'll show you "_act like a girl_", Imma kick your ass!" I went to lunge for him when Rebecca walked in and eyed me, a little apprehensive. He's so lucky I didn't want her to see him get killed by me. She essentially just saved his life.

"Are you okay? Your face is really red…" she stated as she stared at my neck and the color in my cheeks. Great. I probably look like the Kool-Aid man right now.

I glared at Sam. "Well, that's because your horrible friend _Sam_ –"

Dean cut me off while Sam just stood there behind Rebecca, smirking and making a triumphant face. "It's not a big deal, Rebecca. Sam and Becca just had some issues to work out." Issues to work out? The only issue I have to work out and resolve is the one where I strangle Sam with those stupid lacy panties he wears. "So, the tape; the security footage – you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, 'cause I just don't have that jurisdiction." That's an understatement for sure.

I was still rubbing my throat and glaring at Sam when Rebecca smiled, seeming almost embarrassed. "I've already got it. I didn't wanna say something in front of the cop." I laughed out loud, right there in the middle her double take to see Dean's reaction. Okay, okay, I'll admit it. Sam picks good friends. Even if he is a giant doofus. If this girl could swipe a tape, we should probably bring her on some more hunts. Dude! Do you think she would help me double team on Sam!? She's around my height, right? I just have to worry about Dean keeping his giant paws of her… He keeps _eyeing_ her up when he thinks no one is looking. It kind of makes me feel ashamed for standing in the same room as him… I think I need a shower, I feel dirty all of a sudden. I shuddered as Rebecca smiled at me, laughing. "I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself."

Clapping her on the shoulder, I shot her a large grin. "Rebecca, can you please come with us on the road trip? I can't handle Sam on my own, and Dean's pretty useless."

"Useless?" she smirked as she looked at him. Oh man, what did I just start? I feel even more tainted.

"Completely. He's just sort of there. He probably doesn't even know I'm talking about him right now. Do you, Dean?" I smiled and turned to see him glaring at me.

He nodded to Sam, a questioning look on his face. "You think you can handle this one?" Sam nodded as Dean smirked and my eyes widened in horror. Sam pulled me back into a headlock, and I was completely held prisoner while Dean just smiled and led Rebecca out of the house. "Like I said, issues. She's full of them." Did that chick just laugh? Ugh, she already fits in better than I do.

* * *

I was sitting on the couch next to Rebecca and Dean, and far away from Sam. I think he actually may have tried to pop my head off with that last one. He did start singing _"Momma had a baby and…_" that's when my taps and struggles really picked up in volume and I finally managed to get away. He probably let me go, and that would actually explain the laughs he'd had, but I don't think I'd ever been so happy to get away from him in my life. When I'd gotten into the Impala, Dean just smirked at me and I glared at him. My glare deepened when Rebecca spoke up and asked if our issues had been resolved. I think I may have just screwed myself over with inviting her on the trip. Worst part? She was _supposed_ to be on my team, and now it seemed like she was on Dean's… Awesome.

"Here he comes," she announced pointing to the TV screen as the security tape played. And there he was. It was definitely Zack, and he was definitely going into the house.

Dean spoke, bringing my attention to the timestamp in the corner of the screen. "22:04, that's just after ten." Thank you John Winchester for making us learn military time. Let's not even get started on how long that took me to figure out. Sam dumbed it down when he explained you just minus twelve. That was way easier than Dad just saying _"Becca, all you have to do is add twelve. Three plus twelve is fifteen. It's not as difficult as you're making it, just focus."_ I tried to tell him that I didn't get how you just _knew_ it was three to begin with when the clock said 15:47. But hey, I guess I'm the only eight-year old who wouldn't have understood. I could barely make a cursive "z" and this guy had me learning a whole new clock system. Go figure.

"You said time of death was about 10:30?" I questioned, looking at her with raised brows. Oh, by the way, 10:30 means 22:30. Yeah, I can't be the only one who has trouble figuring out the time exchange. You're welcome.

She nodded her head and couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen. "Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with." I expelled a large breath of air and leaned back on the couch.

"Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?" Sam asked kindly. I didn't get what he was talking about. What beers?

I looked at him questioningly, but then all my questions were answered when Rebecca stood up and smiled. Jiminy Cricket people. _I'm_ Becca, she is _Re_becca. Can we please just call people by their proper, government official names? This is becoming ridiculous. I'm changing her name to… Nikki. Yes. When she comes along for the trip, she will now be referred to as Nikki. She could pull that off, right? With the hair, and the eyes, and the I don't know, everything else? Yeah, she's Nikki now.

"Hey. Make some sandwiches, too?" Sam smiled as he turned to face her right before she left the room.

"What do you think this is, Hooters?" she teased back. Oh man. I think I love her.

I laughed and then rolled my eyes when Dean muttered, "I wish," under his breath.

"Guys, can we seriously bring her along on the road trip? I think she will be way more fun to hang out with than the two of you." I think you could call what I was doing, begging. Let's go with begging. I got a look of "_shut up_" from Dean, and head shake from Sam. That wasn't a no, so there's totally some hope. "All right, all right. Why'd you send her out of the room, Sam? Gonna try to cut off my oxygen again?"

"Don't tempt me," he leaned forward, and I flinched into the side of Dean instinctively. I don't know why. He didn't do squat for me earlier. I tried to play it off when Sam just smiled and grabbed the remote. Smooth. "Check this out." He rewound the tape and then played it. Yep. There was Zack, walking into his house. Sam froze the tape, and there looking up at us was Zack, but with bright silver eyes. Whoa.

I leaned forward, impressed. How did he even notice that the first time? Okay, better question, how did he pause it perfectly? I have tried to pause movies at the right spots, and I get the weirdest things. People make the funniest faces on a paused screen, but seventy-two percent of the time I do not get it to land where I intended it to. Sam has a skill people. "Well, maybe it's just a camera flare," Dean suggested.

Turning my head to look at him over my shoulder, I grimaced. "Are you just trying to get out of doing this case or something, Dean? Look at that! That is not just a camera flare. _I've_ never seen a camera flare like that. But hey, you're the one who pauses porn all the time. You tell me. Any of those girls eyes ever look like this?"

Yeah, that look should actually have killed me. I collided with the back of the couch as Dean shoved me into it and looked at Sam when he laughed and started talking. "You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul." Sweet, so now I should avoid having secrets in front of a mirror and I shouldn't look into cameras. This was turning out to be a really awesome life I'm gonna lead. Dean didn't seem convinced. He just readjusted himself on the couch next to me, and muttered a disbelieving _"Right"_. "Remember that dog that was freakin' out?" Sam pushed. "Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him."

"Like, a stunt double," I offered.

Sam totally was gonna accept my term until Dean groaned next to me. "Like a _Doppelganger_, Becca. Doppelganger."

"Yeah, yeah. Stunt double, Doppelganger, please. Tell me the difference," I sighed crossing my arms over my chest. "Either way, it gives a good explanation as to why and how Zack was in two totally different places at once. So… now that we know it's a _Doppelganger_, what is it, supernaturally speaking?"

* * *

The sky isn't even blue yet. No, it's that stupid gray that shouldn't even exist in the color spectrum of the atmosphere. Have I told you about my belief that it should be illegal to be up before the sun? Because I am a very firm believer in that, _and_ I follow the ritual of sleeping in until it is above the trees very seriously. I'm like the best don't wake up before the sun-ist you have ever met. But heck, bring Sam back to the family business and suddenly I'm up at the crack of dawn all the friggen time now. I could hardly stand, and I sort of just _fell_ against the door of the Impala after I'd closed it and stood next to Sam and across from Dean. I think he glared at me? I'm not sure, I know he probably at least gave me a disapproving look. I ran my hand on the cool metal and didn't feel a dent, so I did what any natural human being would do. I shrugged and just leaned back against it. Wanna know how tired _Dean_ was? Well, he was more awake than me, because he drove. I couldn't even keep my eyes open, and I kept rubbing them. There better be a good reason that I am standing, wherever I am, at an ungodly hour with my shirt on backwards and have my waist long hair pulled into the messiest bun I've ever seen atop someone's head.

"Sam…" my voice croaked with how tired I was. "Whaddarewedoin…" I just trailed off. It was a mistake to even attempt talking right now. I couldn't even stand, how was I going to make a sentence? I shook my head, as though it were an _Etch-A-Sketch_, and hoped for better results. Nope.

"I think what Becca was babbling about is that there had better be a good reason we're here at 5:30 in the morning," Dean sighed rubbing his hand over his own tired face as he came around the front of the car to stand by us.

I smiled and tapped my nose slowly with my index finger a few times. My head lolled over to the side, and I think I could pass for actually sleeping while leaning against the car, my head resting on my arms that were crossed and laying at the top of the back door. "I realized something –" Sam started.

"That I should smack you for being up this early? I think I'm going to start making you drink _Nyquil_ before bed." I suggested. It came out mumbled from my mouth being tucked against my arm; but hell, I was just proud that I'd made a full sentence.

"No. I realized that the video tape shows the killer goin' in, but not comin' out," he answered with a bit of a tone. Well excuse me, Mr. Morning Person. Some of us need beauty sleep, and from the looks of your face, you clearly don't get enough. Yep, that's what _I'm_ like when you wake me up before the sun. Feel my wrath.

Dean spoke up, a little more awake now, and I could see his eyes fluttering and trying to adjust to the idea of staying open. "So, he came out the back door?" He leaned on the hood of the car next to me, offering me some of his coffee. Damn right I sipped it a few times.

"Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue," Sam informed us.

"Um, great. So, did this like, eat at you all night or something? Did you even sleep?" I looked up to see Sam just give me the _look_. Yep. Guess it's time to convince myself I need to be fully functioning. I sighed and pushed off the car and gave Dean back his cup. "Fine. So the cops think because they caught Zack inside, that the killer never left." I stuck my arms in my shirt and started to spin it around my body, catching a confused Dean look directed at me. "It was on backwards and I can't handle having my boobs so suffocated," I shrugged as the v-neck finally arrived to its appropriate spot.

Dean scrunched his face up. "I don't need to know that," he grumbled. "What I want to know and still don't have an answer to is what we're doin' here at 5:30 in the morning."

"You and me both, homie," I nodded in agreement.

"Don't call me homie."

I rolled my eyes and we both looked over to see Sam looking around the area. Is he avoiding eye contact? It's cause he knows he's guilty for having waken me up so gosh darn early. I sighed and nudged Dean, and signaled to the seats of the Impala. I know he knows what I'm thinking. Nap time. And those seats will totally fit our bodies while Sam stands around looking at plants and trash cans. We crunched open our doors, simultaneously, when Sam suddenly announced, "Blood. Somebody came this way," from where he was staring at a telephone pole after just looking around between a fence and dumpster. He, for real, was on a mission right now. I threw my head up towards the gray sky and shut the door behind me. There's no turning back now.

Dean didn't even seem fazed. I'm telling you, the guy is as bad as me in the morning. "Yeah, but the trail ends. I don't see anything over here," he looked around the hood of the car, and I laughed.

"Dean, it might benefit us if you _actually_ look around for some blood. Leaning against the car and turning your head will not help any," I smiled as I tried to have a few more sips of his coffee. I can't believe I could actually force the stuff down. He drinks it black. Usually mine is more a toffee color. Light brown, sweet, and delicious. But I guess it didn't matter, because he just pulled it away from my grasp.

"If looking around is so beneficial, you go do it," he was snarky as he sipped from the _Styrofoam_ container.

"Fine, I will," I stated. I stepped forward just as an ambulance came speeding by and almost ran me over. I'd seriously be like a flat pancake on the ground if Dean hadn't grabbed the back of my shirt and tugged me into his chest. I stepped away from Dean, my breath shaky and my wide eyes catching Sam's who were also the size of saucers. "See," I tried to play it off and rubbed down my shirt as I turned to face Dean. "If I hadn't fixed my shirt, you wouldn't have been able to save my life."

He rolled his eyes and pushed off the car. "You're welcome," he toyed as he walked away after the ambulance.

"Thanks!" I sighed as Sam came to walk beside me and we followed Dean down to the corner. "Did you see that!?" I breathed to Sam. "I just almost _died_!"

"Don't be dramatic," he smiled.

"Dramatic!? Sam, the only good thing about the possibility of almost being run over by that ambulance was that it was in fact, an ambulance. I'm serious. I think I saw my life flash before my eyes… You were a lot nicer in that," I stuck my tongue between my teeth as he nudged me before we turned the corner. "Whoa, dude," I gasped.

There was a large crowd out on the street. I couldn't make out too much because of the people in front of me, but there was definitely a guy being put into a police car. This doesn't seem like a real great area to be living in, does it? If we prove Zack to be innocent, I think he should move. Cops were already putting the yellow tape around the building. Little do they know. That's not exactly an invisible barrier. I had the sudden urge to step back and forth over the tape and chant _"Now I'm in the crime scene, now I'm not…"_ over and over. Dean was already talking to a woman when Sam and I walked up. "What happened?"

She indicated to the man who was in cuffs and seemed completely confused. "He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her." Whoa, seriously? Who releases the information to the people? The guy responsible for that needs to be fired; because, that sounds drastic, and I don't think that everyone should know all the circumstances so quickly! Other than the fact that the police are not doing a very good job of keeping the public so uninformed, I did completely comprehend that this guy's story matched Zack's. Tied her up. Beat her. Coincidence? Now, now. Is it really ever a coincidence?

"Really?" Sam asked from behind me.

"I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say "_hello_". He seemed like such a nice guy," she had a sad smile on her face. I watched the police car drive by slowly before Sam tapped me on the shoulder, and we made our way to the back of the building and the alley that ran behind it.

I don't know why Sam pointed to the trashcans on the side of the fence, but he did. And I like a dork, opened it up and looked inside. I don't know what I expected to find, but guess what, I found an old pizza and a ton of trash bags that smelled like baby diapers. I think I'm gonna hurl. Dropping the lid, I fought back the sick feeling and looked at Sam. "What are you looking for in the trash?"

"I don't know," he answered, still looking through his bin. Funny how he had the recycling container and I had the rotten one. I suppose he wouldn't have done that on purpose. Sam's just too nice for that. That's what I would have told you yesterday, before my brother tried turning me into the Headless Winchester while we were in his convicted friend's kitchen. Oh, I have the nicest family.

Scowling at him, I jumped when Dean was suddenly behind me and said "Hey!" a bit too loudly for my liking. Definitely the nicest people. "Scare ya, Bec?"

I turned, glaring at him. "Ya think?" I mocked him in childish way. "Is it like your life goal to terrorize me or something?"

He nodded, a smile on his face. "Something like that. So, Sam, remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?"

"Who wouldn't remember that? You've been trying to get out of doing it since we got here," I bit. Dean reached forward and pinched the back of my arm sharply, and I squirmed as a loud shriek started to pass by my lips. He quickly slapped a hand over my mouth and pulled me to him so we were both facing Sam.

"Well, it's definitely our kind of problem," Dean told Sam. I stomped on Dean's foot and he let go of my mouth.

I stepped closer to Sam. He was suddenly safer than Dean was at the moment. "Why would you do that!?" I screeched. Sam reached forward and pinched me on the back of my other arm, causing me to jump and a cry to come out again. I stepped away from both of them, a frown on my face as I crossed my arms and clutched at the marks that I already knew were forming on each arm. "You guys are _the worst_ brothers in the whole wide world! God!"

They were both grinning at me. I rubbed at my arms, a pout on my lips. I swear I'm not this mean to them. Not even close. Sarcastic and teasing, for sure. Abusive? God no. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked as I slowly made my way back over to them. I jumped away from him as he reached a hand out.

Dean caught my arm and pinched it again, causing me jump back to Sam, who pinched me, too. "Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex's story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked. Becca, come back over here," he turned to face me.

I was seated on the ground, on the other side of the alley, cross-legged and holding my arms. I just stuck my nose in the air and ignored his comment, but made sure to pay close attention to the important things. "Forget her," Sam sighed with smirk. "So, this guy was in two places at once?"

"Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house, police think he's a nut job," Dean added.

"Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way."

"Could be the same thing doin' it, too," Dean suggested.

There was silence among the three of us as we all racked our brains and I continued to rub at my arms. I turned the one over and already saw some purple marks appearing. Friggen jerks. "Shapeshifter?" Sam spoke.

I was instantly on my feet. "Why would you even say that?" I yelled from where I stood across the alley. It better not be a shapeshifter. Those things are disgusting and I don't know why but I am terrified of them. Maybe it's the uncertainty of it all. You never really know if you're talking to the shapeshifter or a human. What if you killed an innocent person?! At least with the woods and bugs the fear makes sense, right? But no, I gotta be the freak afraid of the shapeshifter. I swiftly made my way over to them, smacking Dean's hand that had risen as I neared. "Why would you even _joke_ about that? It's not funny."

"Well, it's gotta be something that can make itself look like anyone, Becca," Sam threw his hands in the air. I don't care if you're annoyed at me or what, but it better not be a shapeshifter.

"Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men," Dean said, causing me to spin and face him.

I nodded my head. "Right, skinwalkers, werewolves, _Optimus Prime_, whatever. But this is _not_ a shapeshifter. Pick a different monster."

"We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessin' it's not _Optimus Prime_ prowlin' the neighborhood, Becca. It's gotta be a shapeshifter," Dean told me. I think his tone was sympathetic, but the fear in my mind was screaming a little bit too loud and I couldn't stop staring at the lid of the trash can.

"No," I shook my head knowing that he was right.

Sam seemed irritated when he shifted his weight to one leg. "Becca, are you freak –" I don't know why he stopped talking, but I think it was probably the glare I saw Dean shoving towards him. "Let me ask you this," I knew Sam was trying to be calmer, and I get why he was upset, but I think he could have done without the seething. "In all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?"

I shook my head. You'd be surprised just how much information one knows about the background and things related to their fears. For instance, did you know that no, there aren't any flying shapeshifters? At least not to my knowledge.

"I picked up a trail here," Sam pointed to where we were after he accepted my negative head movement as a good enough response. "Someone ran out of the back of this building and headed off this way."

"Just like your friend's house," Dean noted.

"Yeah. And just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is, just disappeared."

Good. It's gone, that means we can leave. Case done, time to get in the Impala and go to Bisbee like Dean wanted to in the beginning. Sorry Rebecca, we will not be making a side trip to come and get you because I can't trust you won't turn into goo over night. "Well, there's another way to go – down," Dean stated.

I looked down to my feet where the manhole cover laid uneven in its seal and shifted with metal clangs when I moved. So now, not only do I have to go after a shapeshifter, but I have to crawl around in other people's nasty flushed fluids. Oh, yeah, I'm so glad I picked Sam's side. I kind of just wish they'd have left me with cranky face at the gas station.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen.**

**Yay for school related procrastination!**

**I hope you guys are as excited to read this as I was to write it. There is quite a bit of my own add-ins, and I really hope it worked out well. I was super freaked out, thinking that it wouldn't flow or that you guys would hate it. Please don't hate it. Hopefully I can get another chapter out before the weekend is over. Here's hoping!**

**Extra special thanks to my reviewers, PMers, and list adders. If I have not personally thanked you, I apologize, I try to. And you should all be extra thanking the lovely Jenmm31! She totally talked me into busting my hump to get this out to you. You can thank her by clicking on her story in my FAVORITES tabs and reading, reviewing, and letting her know what you think. Then you can just mozy on over to sweetkiwi604's page and show her some fan-love. They both really deserve it.**

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**DISCLAIMER.**

* * *

Dean's hands wrapped around my waist and helped me off of the ladder and into the puddle below. That's right. I'm in the sewer. God, can we have any worse jobs? First there's abandoned houses, then old mines, hungry lakes, and morgues. I turned on my flashlight and started shining it all around, checking to see if there was anything nearby that could attack us. Sam hopped off the ladder and landed with a splash in the puddle.

"Gross!" I jumped back and ended up farther away, down the tunnel as Sam's spray landed on my legs. These were totally just cleaned! I didn't need this on top of everything else! Great. Now not only am I standing in disgusting puddles in the sewer, but I have to hunt down a shapeshifter that is pretending to be my brother's friend, and now I am covered in nasty water.

"I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around," he explained, not even acknowledging that he got sewer water all over my clothes.

I stepped past him and walked behind Dean. Continuing to use my flashlight to lead me; because, I'm sorry but I am just not satisfied with the lights that are attached to the walls down here. At least my flashlight is secure in my hand, allowing me to see anything and everything I deem important and noteworthy. There will be no shadows while I have my handy dandy flashlight. "I think you're right," Dean spoke up from in front of me, and he crouched down. "Look at this."

There was this large gross pile of nasty hanging off of the nearby pipe and laying on the ground in front of him. Ew, this was seriously sitting in the water Sam had just gotten all over me. He pulled out his knife and started poking at it. "Dude, what are you doing! Stop being so gross. Please don't poke that!" I squirmed. He did it anyway. I got goose bumps and started to shake when he started bringing the blade closer to the pile. He dug his knife right in there and pulled up some, and it was like stringy and sticky, and I think I'm gonna be sick. And I was sick, almost right on Sam's feet. God, this was just the nastiest thing I've ever seen. Sam cringed and groaned next to me. Ugh, this was just so wrong. I was full blown shaking now, finding it difficult to stop. I did my best to clean out my mouth and then covered it with my hand, but made sure I could still talk. I didn't need them to have to smell my breath. That's just cruel. "Dean, stop," he was still looking at the puddle like an over excited kid in Chemistry class, "that's a victim," I informed him. I shuddered and felt my stomach suddenly feel the need to be emptied again. He instantly dropped the goo and even looked a little guilty and grossed out himself.

"What?" He stood up and looked down to see my green face.

"That's a victim… One of his "disguises" or whatever. That's a _real life_, nasty, skinwalker mess," it was hard for me to talk because I thought I would be sick again. Apparently Sam thought the same thing when I turned around to face away from the pool of gross, because he practically threw himself up against the wall on the opposite side of the tunnel.

Dean was next to me, a hand on my shoulder and about three pieces of gum in his hand. He is for real a superhero. Man, this guy knew just what to carry in that jacket-utility-belt of his. "So, what, it like sheds?"

"That's exactly what it does. Each time it takes on a new persona it has to get rid of its old one. The skin like peels off and ugh, man, I think I'm gonna be sick again," I stepped past Sam and pushed a hand against the wall, staring at the floor.

Once I was sure I wasn't going to throw up again, I popped the gum into my mouth and we all started back for the ladder. I think they might have pushed on further into the tunnel if I wasn't there, but I just couldn't. No, uh uh. I was too grossed out right now. "How do you know all this?" Sam asked from behind me as I used my flashlight to check every shadow we passed before nodding for him to go up the ladder ahead of me.

"I hate them. Call it sick and twisted, but I thought it was good to know just what it was I was afraid of when we were younger. I don't know, maybe I felt like knowing all the ins and outs of the thing meant that I had a better chance of fighting one," I told him as I followed him back up the ladder and into the real world. My explanation makes complete sense, right? I mean, if you're afraid of spiders, you're gonna know which ones are the deadly ones so that if they try to jump and eat you, you know if you're gonna die, right? By the way, it's a Daddy Long Legs. Yeah, that bastards one of the worst, if not the worst. Mind blowing isn't it.

Sam helped me up off the ground when I'd surfaced out of the man hole, and he had a smile. What about any of this is funny? Nothing. "Well, it's definitely sick," he joked. I think he was trying to be reassuring and ease me around this, but it wasn't working. I still felt nauseous.

Dean put the cover back onto the sewer and wiped off his hands. "Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it," he stated as we walked back over to where he had parked the Impala.

He opened the trunk and started taking out and distributing weapons to us. I don't think this gun has ever felt this heavy before. "Silver bullet to the heart," I nodded, sure that was the answer. I stared at the gun in my hands, silently telling it that we were going to be best friends and that we were going to kill this nasty son of a b together. I couldn't take any chances with having it touch me. Not today.

"That's right," he smiled at me before checking his clip. I just bit my lip and checked my own clip that he'd filled with silver bullets. I sighed a shaky breath and pushed the safety before sticking the gun in the waist of my jeans. "You gonna be okay?"

I just stuck my hands on my hips, a determined look on my face. I started nodding my head, trying to convince myself that I would be. "I have no idea," I told him honestly.

Sam's phone started ringing, and he received looks from the both of us before he answered it and walked a few feet away. "You wanna sit this one out?"

"Dean, I would love to sit this one out. More than anything. But I won't be able to. These things can pick up an identity just by touching someone. If it touches you or Sam, it can turn into you, and because I am me, I won't be satisfied in knowing that it isn't you unless I am there seeing it with my own eyes," I pulled my long hair up into a pony tail that just ended past the middle of my back. "I have to go, to make sure you stay you, and Sam stays Sam."

"I think we can handle it," he laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure you can, but unfortunately I'm only going to trust my own eyes right now. No offence," I breathed.

Sam's voice was suddenly a lot more upset than it had been earlier. "Bec –" I walked over, expecting that it was _me_ he was talking to, only to receive a hand up, stopping me. I looked at him, confused as Dean closed the trunk and came to stand next to me. "We're tryin' to help," Sam pushed to whoever he was talking to the other line. There was a bit of silence before he seemed seriously angry and betrayed. "Bec, I'm sorry, but –" Then he slowly pressed the button on his phone before staring at it. "Rebecca told the lawyers we went to the crime scene." THAT DUMB HOOKER! Who does that!? Did we not tell her Dean was a detective!? "She knows you're not a detective," he nodded to Dean. Great.

I grabbed his arm and squeezed. He caught my eyes and I really just wanted to call Rebecca back and start yelling at her for doing that to Sam. He is the one that wanted to come out here and help her and now here she was just being all mean to my nice big brother, who is really only a jerk to me, and he didn't deserve that. I was fuming. I almost went and grabbed his phone right out of his hand to redial her, but I don't know how to work the thing, so she's lucky. Because, I would have seriously ripped her head off through the phone. I must have been squeezing Sam's arm a little too tight, because he had to pry my fingers off him with a confused expression.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talkin' about," Dean threw in. Not now, Dean. We don't need people feeling worse about themselves. "You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked. It's just… it'd be easier if…"

"If I was like you," Sam suggested.

I scoffed. "God, no. Do not be like Dean. Be like me. Good looking, funny, loveable, just overall the nicest and best person in the world," I teased with a smile.

Dean just playfully shoved me away from the two of them as Sam laughed. "Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people. But I'll tell you one thing. This whole gig – it ain't without perks." He had a grin on his face as he handed Sam a fully loaded gun. Sam stuck it in the back of his jeans and we worked our way back over to the man hole.

"Sam, if you get that nasty water on me again, I'll shoot you," I threatened.

"You have to be able to aim in order to shoot someone, Becca," Dean quipped as he led the way and then bent down to reopen the way down.

I just grumbled next to Sam. "I can aim my foot up your ass, wanna see?" I even lifted my foot up to kick him, but Sam just pulled me back. I suppose he's right. We can't really have a Dean whose brains are all splayed out in the sewer. He'd probably haunt me or something. This guy will forever be a pain in my side.

* * *

I was following between the two of them as we journeyed down the nasty sewer tunnels. My flashlight was scanning ahead of me, next to where Dean's was lighting up the path as he walked with his gun out and raised. Always ready to fight, that man. I was trying to choke back the smell and move on, ignoring the fact that we were looking for a shapeshifter. "I think we're close to its lair," Dean whispered, even though it echoed off the walls and sounded like he'd spoken in a regular tone.

"Don't say that," I breathed, even though I know that's what the ultimate goal was. "I know we're looking for it, but I don't think I actually want to find it."

"_Why_ would you say that?" I heard Sam ask as he brought up the rear, a few paces behind me.

I just shrugged my shoulders, trying to act like I wasn't terrified by this whole thing. "I don't like them, Sam. I want nothing to do with them. Let's just tell Rebecca to move and then send someone else to go kill this. Yeah, that's a good idea." I was completely down for calling out to another hunter.

"I meant, _Dean_," Sam sighed behind me. Well _sorry_, I can't just always know who you're trying to talk to. Use your words, Sam. Things will be a million times easier.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face," Dean stated with an air that said it was as though it were no big deal.

I turned to look next to Sam, and there was indeed a bloody pile of skin hanging on a pipe next to him. I covered my mouth and walked backwards, in attempt to be closer to Dean. I sure as hell wasn't going to step closer to Sam, he was by the pile of nasty, and I already gave into the first "_puke-inducing_" one. I screamed into my own hand. Yeah, I did. At least my subconscious knows better than to make _loud_ noises, it did try to muffle it.

Sam looked just as disgusted as I felt. "Oh, God!" He jumped back. I spun around, looking for more piles or something else that could possibly tell us just how close we were to finding this thing when I saw a pile of clothes just laying there. Well, not only is this thing completely gross, but it doesn't keep up with its laundry either.

I nudged Dean and indicated to where the pile sat. "I guess it's lived here for a while, huh? I wonder how many murders it's gotten away with… It could be anyone right now."

Dean and I spun as Sam yelled out Dean's name and there was the shapeshifter standing right behind us. I screamed and froze. The thing punched Dean, causing him to collide with a nearby pipe and then fall to the ground out of being ninja attacked – because if Dean _had_ been prepared, we all know that thing wouldn't have survived. I felt Sam's hand shove me to the side, and into the wall, and then bullets cracked through the air and passed by my head towards the shapeshifter who took off running down the tunnel.

Um, sidebar. Have you guys ever heard a gun go off in a tiny tunnel? Yeah, it's probably one of the LOUDEST most EAR DRUM SHATTERING experiences you will ever have, and I totally understand why Dean was yelling. I bent down to help Dean up off the ground and we took off running after he collected himself and stopped swaying from the sound of Sam's gun. I don't know if they were even talking to be honest. Everything sounded like it was underwater and I had to pop my ears to even get the sound to be clear again.

We chased the thing through the tunnels and all the way around and back to the manhole we'd passed through multiple times already. Shielding my eyes from the sun once we'd surfaced, I frantically looked around. He was gone, long gone. We were all out of breath as we spun and looked everywhere.

"All right, let's split up," Sam suggested.

Dean nodded. "All right, I'll meet you guys around the other side. Sam, you go that way, Becs, you take that alley over there, I got this way."

"All right," Sam quickly took off in his instructed way and Dean started in his own.

I caught his arm and pulled him back. "Dean, I'm not leaving you!"

"Becca, that guy could be anywhere. You know what he looks like, now if you find him, you kill him."

"He touched you!" I practically screamed as I saw Sam round a far corner. "What if you aren't really even you?" I eyed him skeptically and then punched him in his left shoulder as hard as I possibly could, sighing out of relief when he clutched at it and glared at me.

He eyed his shoulder and then me. "What the hell was that?!"

"Your shoulder was hurt when the guy punched you and threw you into that pipe. If you had been a shapeshifter, you wouldn't have cringed. You promise not to turn into a monster?" I looked up at him.

Dean dropped his hand and started rotating his arm in his shoulder socket. "Just go check out that alley and then meet Sam and me on the other side, okay? I promise to stay a human," he rolled his eyes when I didn't answer.

I just looked to the alley he'd directed me to, feeling like it was a mistake for me to be leaving him, and when I turned back around to talk to him, he was gone. You know, for a burly guy, he moves fast. I sighed and crossed over to the adjoining alley, pulling out my gun and searching around anxiously. There was nothing. No blood, no skin puddles, no dirty laundry. Not a single thing to make me feel like this guy was here. I walked the entire length of the alley, twice just to make sure; checking through bushes, in windows – I scared a lady who was making food – and in yards. He was not here, not even close. I stuck my gun back into my jeans and rounded the corner, jogging to the edge of the street where we were supposed to all meet up. I saw the Impala and I began walking through the people that were on the sidewalks, making my way over. I heard it roar to life, and then just as I was about to walk to where it was, it started to take off. Dean was driving, and Sam wasn't even in the passenger seat. What the hell? I quickly ran over to the car, only for the Dean to look at me with a hard glare and almost run the tire on my foot, he took off so fast. It was as though he didn't recognize me or something.

I groaned, instantly knowing that it wasn't Dean in that car. He wouldn't leave Sam and me just sitting here, not when were that close to killing this thing. And besides, he saw me waving my hand for him to stop, and he just practically killed me with the car. The real Dean wouldn't even fathom the idea of hitting something with that car. He would have slammed on the breaks and freaked out on me and told me to "_get in the friggen car_" with some sort of harsh tone for almost "_denting and getting my blood on his baby_"; I know my brother, and that thing is _not _him.

Walking around and searching for about five minutes, I continued pushing past people and asking if they'd seen either Dean or Sam, I finally stopped and pulled out the small cell phone that Dean had given to me after going on about how I was clumsy. Yes, I dropped my last one in the toilet. No, it wasn't on purpose. Yes, Dean overreacts just as badly as I do. I shoved my finger into the three button and held it there until it started dialing Sam's number. Nothing, he didn't answer. It just went to his voice mail, and that's always a problem. Sam always has his phone on, and it's almost always in his hands, so there's not a chance he'd miss me calling. I stuffed the phone back into my jean pocket and mentally cursed Dean out of making me split up from him. I told him this was going to happen, did I not?! And now here I am, alone, both of my brothers missing, and I have to go and save them. They owe me so bad for this, so, _so_ bad for this. I hate shapeshifters, and here I get to go all one-on-one with the thing. Next time, I'm definitely not sharing my pie.

* * *

Okay. Let's see, silver bullets? Check. Silver blade? Check. Lighter and bottle full of gasoline, just in case? Check. Gum and water for when I inevitably empty my stomach onto the tunnel floor? Double, triple, quadruple check. Map of the sewer system? Unfortunately, check. I had everything laying on the motel bed in front of me and checked them each off my mental list before packing them into whatever they'd fit in on my body. Sam and Dean were gone. That I knew. Dean had been touched. That I also knew. I was going to beat the crap out of Dean for getting touched and then making me split up. That _he_ better know. We learned it lived in the sewers; therefore, I had to go in the sewers. If these two ever say I haven't done something for them, I will punch them both in the face. I quickly tightened my pony tail and put on my dark jean jacket before sticking the cell phone in my pocket and grabbing the sewer map. It was a hike to get back to the manhole I'd become familiar with, but I had to make sure I'd gotten everything I needed. Especially since that thing took the Impala and I didn't know where it went. All I knew was that it looked like Dean, and I wanted it dead. After I made sure that it was really Dean and it hadn't touched me.

I finally got back to the manhole and bent down to pick up the lid. Holy Hannah, that was the hardest thing in the world. How the hell did Dean just pick that up no problem?! He has _got _to be part gorilla or something to have that sort of strength. I was about to give up and try to find a different way in when I saw a shovel leaning against a nearby garage. Thank heavens Sam forced me to learn about levers! I used the shovel against a nearby tire and finally after much pushing and cursing, got the manhole lid to pop off. And it popped, it just flipped right over with such a crash, I jumped. I heard a man shouting from one of the yards next to me, and I moved so quickly down that ladder that I don't think I actually did more than slide down it.

Leaning into a shadow, in case the guy came to look down the manhole, I pulled out the sewer map and my flashlight. I'd made note of where we had been and where we'd seen him, and I started my way towards it. This wasn't becoming any easier to all by myself. It was actually a lot scarier. I kept looking behind me to make sure there was nothing there, and the eerie drips of water and echoes of every time I stubbed my toe was becoming a problem. At one point I was so intently staring at the map and making sure I'd turned the right way that I brought my right foot to land next to my left, and I heard a "_sklurk"_ and a cool-warmth attacked my ankle. I used my flashlight to look at my foot and I was STANDING IN A SKIN PUDDLE. I screamed, not even covering my mouth this time. Full blown screamed, and pulled my leg out, crying. Yep, full-fledged tears streaming down my face. What if that was a _Dean_ skin puddle? Or a _Sam _skin puddle!? What if this guy had changed!? I fell to the ground, not caring about the water on the surface, and pushed my way away from the congealed mess.

Sitting there a moment, I tried to calm myself. Okay, breathe, Becca. Breathe. You're in a tunnel big enough to fit a man, so you'll be able to hear him coming. You are going to fight the monster and you are going to save your brothers. Think of a song. Breathe. I slowly picked myself up, still shaky and nauseous. Yeah, I gave into that nausea. After rinsing my mouth out and sticking about half a pack of gum in my mouth, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to relax. Music… What kind of music would calm me down right now… What song had Dean been humming on that flight? Metallica, right? _Some Kind of Monster_? No! No, that is not a good song right now. Okay, what song will pertain to _me_, right now? It was like a light bulb had gone off in my head.

_Do do do do dodododudodododo do do…_ Yes. I was humming the _Super Mario_ song. And it was helping. Do not judge me. I was so far gone from the manhole that I'd come down, I no longer recognized any of it. The tears I'd cried were dry and tight on my cheeks as I made my way down farther into the city's tunnels. I'd finished my bottle of water already, and left it lying in some stupid water puddle about two hundred yards back, and I was thirsty. I was growing impatient, thinking I'd taken a wrong turn or something, and pulled out my sewer map for the zillionth time when I heard voices, well _a_ voice, _Sam_'s voice. Thank God for making tunnels completely capable of producing echoes.

"Damn it!" I heard him groan as I walked into a large area lit with candles and there was Sam, tied to a large support beam thing, sitting on a box. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see him in all my life.

I came out of the shadows, a large smile on my face. "Sam!" I practically shouted as I came up to him. I was ecstatic that I wasn't alone anymore. Now I could be properly terrified, and not stranded. His eyes seemed horrified to see me, and he seemed to struggle to find a way farther into the beam. "Sam! Sam, stop!" I walked up and pulled out my blade to cut his ropes.

"How do I know it's really you, Becca?" he groaned, still trying to get away from me as he eyed my blade.

"Because, _Princess_, I'm rescuing you," I told him with a sigh. He didn't seem convinced. "Sam, the thing looks like Dean, we gotta stop him. Look, I'll leave your ass here if you don't believe it's me. I'll go find Dean, we can go and save your little friend, and then he and I will be off to Bisbee. It's _me,_ Sam. It's Becca, and I'm going to cry if you aren't you. I have had a really tough time trying to find you. I'm out of water, I fell in a stupid skin puddle, and then I got lost, and now you're looking at me like I'm some sort of freak. You better be you, because I am not in the mood for you to not be," I could feel the tears of frustration building and tried to push them back. "And you need to decided if I'm me or not."

Sam stared at me. I thought for a minute he'd decide I was the shifter until he spoke. "Princess?" he asked.

I smiled at him. "That better be you, Sam, and not that freak of nature," I heard Dean growl from somewhere else in the room. Running to where a sack was moving with where Dean was beneath it, trying to uncover himself. I pulled off the sack and smiled, happy to see him. It was then that I hardcore slapped him in the face. "WHAT THE HELL?"

"NEXT TIME, WHEN I TELL YOU THAT YOU BETTER STAY HUMAN, YOU BETTER STAY HUMAN!" I yelled in his face. "I told you that it touched you, Dean! I told you we shouldn't split up! He's going around town, and he looks like you. And he's driving the Impala. He almost ran me over!

"Well, where is he now!?" Dean was stern as he pushed the issue. Like I knew where he was. I was too busy searching beneath the city streets looking for _Tweedle Dee_ and _Tweedle Dum_!

"He went to Rebecca's, lookin' like you," Sam explained as he struggled against his ropes.

Dean threw me his stupid smirk. "Well, he's not stupid. At least he picked the handsome one." I couldn't help myself. I slapped him again.

"Sam, you know for a fact that he went to Rebecca's, pretending to be Dean?" I kept an intense glare on Dean, who was glaring right back at me.

"Yeah, and that's the thing. He didn't just look like you, Dean. He _was _you, or he was becoming you."

I sliced through Dean's ropes, not understanding. "What do you mean?" Dean asked after I'd cut the rope around his neck.

"I don't know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories," Sam sighed. I stood up, forgetting that I was in the process of rescuing them.

"You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?" Dean asked, also seeming to forget that I was supposed to be releasing him. God, Dean, could you be any more of a total nerd? I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe that's why he didn't kill you," I offered, leaning down and slicing through the ropes at Dean's hands and feet. "Maybe he _needs_ to keep you alive, for some sort of psychic connection." I'd moved over to Sam and sliced through his ropes as Dean was going over the sewer map I'd given him. "There ya go, Princess."

Sam rubbed at his wrists and neck. "Why do you keep calling me Princess?" he posed as I closed my blade and stuck it in my pocket.

"'Cause you're like Princess Peac_h_…"

"Princess Peach?"

I groaned. "Yeah, I mean, it makes sense. Stop looking at me like that, Dean! I'm serious. I was walking through the scary tunnels, on my way to fight Bowser and rescue Princess Peach. It just so happens that Luigi got kidnapped too," I'd turned my flash light back on and started leading us down the tunnel to the manhole I'd used earlier.

Dean was right behind me, the map in his hand. "You're not Mario, I am."

"Nuh uh. You're Luigi, and _I'm_ Mario. I'm the one that just saved you, and did the tunnel hunt. I totally get dibs on being Mario."

"What about me?" I heard Sam ask.

Dean and I both rolled our eyes as he'd taken the lead. We answered Sam at the same time. "Definitely Princess Peach."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen.**

**Holy guacamole! I am sorry about the time span between the last chapter and this one. You have no idea how bad I feel for not getting it up sooner - but I am literally swamped. Jenmm31 can totally vouch for this.**

**Here is the rest of the episode - and I hope it is well worth the wait! I hope to get at least one more chapter up before Sunday, hopefully two, but honestly; I can't be sure what's going to happen. Life = hella cray cray. (I just did that.)**

**I want to thank all of you wonderful reviewers! I totally take everything you say into consideration, and I appreciate every last one of them. Trust me!  
And another thanks to those who have added this story to their favorites and follows. Oh man, you guys make this worth it.**

**Biggest thanks in the world to Jenmm31. She literally helped me get this chapter out to you guys, and helped me not completely throw all my homework out of the window. She has totally been there to help me through my rants and stuck parts - and she totally came up with the last "scene" of the chapter. Much love.**

**You had all better head on over to her page and read her story as a thank-you! I mean it, go on over there and read her story! And then review it! And then read it again. I do, and it's amazing, and I love it.**

**You know what, this whole chapter is just totally dedicated to Jenmm31. She totally deserves it after this week. Bam.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer. (It's taken me since Sunday to write this, and I don't remember if there are songs or quotes.) I think I quoted _The Terminator_, so yeah. I don't own that or SPN (yet - Jenmm31). If you recognize it, assume it's not mine. That's my general thought.**

* * *

I'd lost complete track of where we were and where we were heading after Dean had taken the lead. He'd just moved so swiftly through the tunnels and the streets once we'd resurfaced that, as I tumbled out of the vent of the building we were in, I made him slow down. First off, I don't even know _what_ building we were in, or actually how I even got into it. Things had just sped by once Dean and Sam got back into the mindset of the case and after I'd had a complete and total break down when I got stuck in another skin puddle. This time though, it was because Sam had successfully flat tired me as we walked through the tunnels, and my sock was then the only separation between my foot and the goo. Random fact, it's a crap separation, and your foot still feels it all. You try not crying, because I cried, and pounded against Sam's chest for probably ten minutes total before I completely lost it and Dean had to yell at Sam and then me for wasting time. I mean, when I went down into the tunnel to get Thing One and Thing Two, the sun had been out, and now, it was definitely night time.

"Dean, wait, where are we even going?" I panted after Sam helped pick me up out of the pile of boxes I'd collapsed into.

Dean gave me the craziest look. I'm assuming that the answer should have been completely clear – but I was kind of freaking out over the fact that we were kind of after the thing that looked like my brother, and we wanted to kill him. Yeah, yeah, I know that's exactly what I said I _wanted_, but now, seeing Dean standing in front of me, I can't actually imagine shooting him – monster or otherwise. It's just a bit weird. I keep getting this sick feeling in my stomach just knowing that at the end of it all, there would be one dead Dean on the ground… Hopefully. See! That sounds weird right!? "Come on," Sam spoke as he grabbed my elbow, ignoring my question. "We gotta find a phone, call the police."

"And do what?" I asked incredulously. "Tell them that even though Dean is standing right in front of us, he's missing? That he's on the loose trying to kill Rebecca?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You're gonna put an APB out on me?" Dean had stopped moving and turned to look at us, shock on his face. Well someone's obviously an eavesdropper. Doesn't he know it's rude to listen in on conversations – especially when they're about him?

I just eyed him innocently and pointed a finger at Sam, completely blaming him. I shook my head quickly, a lot like when you're little and you know that you're about to be in trouble, but you at least _gotta_ try to deny it. I wasn't about to report that someone was missing and attempting to kill another person – not when that person was grimacing at me and still had a bright pink mark on his cheek from where his tiny-handed sister had slapped him… twice. Apparently, Sam didn't even care that I blamed him, which is good, because it was all his stupid idea anyway. "Sorry," he shrugged. He looked down at me, receiving a full on eye roll.

I just tugged on his sleeve, pulling him along behind me as we followed Dean. "Come on, this way, Gigantor."

"I just thought it was a good idea. Try and stop him before he gets to Rebecca," Sam explained. His voice was completely worried and distraught. It made me feel even worse about everything, but I couldn't focus on that right now. I had to focus on trying to come to terms with killing my brother's clone instead of screaming and running away from it.

"Yeah, that's all good and everything, except you're currently staring at the back of Dean's head. How are you going to explain to the police that the guy you're accusing for going after your friend is with you, and actually didn't even do it?" I asked as we turned out of the alley and down the block. My voice was actually a lot more sympathetic than I thought it would have been. I was looking up and making sure that Sam was okay, and I completely didn't see that Dean had stopped moving and was staring at a store front window, watching the televisions. I walked right into him, stumbling backwards, into Sam. "Dean, brake lights!" I hissed.

Dean, instead of some snide remark, just turned and jabbed a finger towards the TVs. He looked pissed, and maybe even let down. "Man! That's not even a good picture!"

What is this goon going on about? I stepped beside him and saw that his face was plastered all over the screens. HOLY CRAP! The police were already after him! He was right though, that was actually a really _bad_ picture of him. However, I was slowly drifting my eyes from his sketch to the cheetah running on the screen next to it. I do love _Animal Planet_… I was intently watching the cheetahs while Dean was listening to the report about him, and Sam was being twitchy and watching everyone to make sure that they didn't notice it was Dean standing there next to us.

"It's good enough," Sam argued, growing impatient. He tugged on our arms, and I pulled mine out of his grip.

"What? No it's not, Sam, look at that," I pointed to the drawing of what was supposed to be Dean. "That guy's head doesn't even look like Dean. And his eyes are totally different sizes. And his chin is weird." I turned back to watching the cheetahs. Holy guacamole, one just attacked a gazelle. Dean looked at the screen and groaned before tugging on my sleeve and pulling me after them. "Oh, come on! That cheetah is totally devouring that gazelle right now, look!" I was still trying to watch the screen as they pulled me away and around a corner.

I was behind Dean as he stepped into a puddle and quickly jumped out, complaining. Oh, so now getting splashed by puddles is a problem, 'cause I'm pretty sure when Sam did it to me, no one except me even cared. I couldn't help but grin at his reaction, Dean sure is funny when he's stressed. I stopped laughing when he turned around and he had his death glare fixed on my eyes. "Come on," Sam pushed as he turned to see us standing there, Dean with a wet pant leg and clenched fists, me with an impish grin and slightly shaking from trying not to laugh audibly. "They said attempted murder. At least we know –"

"I didn't kill her!" Dean bit before Sam could finish his sentence.

He was right, he did in fact, NOT kill Rebecca. Whether Sam was paying attention to details or not, I'm sure that one was blatantly obvious. "We'll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she's all right," Sam decided.

"Wait just a second there," I stepped around the puddle and stood in front of Sam. "You were all about us trying to protect your friends, and now you just want to leave her sitting there after the thing tried to kill her, while looking like Dean. Um, if you ask me, we need to go there _now_ to explain to her that it couldn't have been Dean, because he was too busy being kidnapped and tied to a beam."

"Becca, they said attempted murder. She already told them what Dean looks like, and I'm sure the last person she wants to see is him," Sam jabbed a finger in the air towards Dean.

Dean eyed him, seeming put off about the finger. "Bec, he's got a point. Besides, first thing, I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him." Jeez la-wheeze. You think my brother's got an inflated ego or something? No, not Dean. I'm sure you already know I shot that remark about a dozen eye rolls. He deserved them.

"If any of us are the good looking one, it's me," I flipped my head around so that my ponytail swung.

"Then why'd he pick me?" Dean questioned.

"Because, you're the slowest and stupidest, obviously. He didn't pick one of the smart ones, because we didn't get touched. We knew better," I retorted. Dean shot me a look, and guys, I don't know what it read. But I should have. The next thing I know, I'm in the air, flipped over his shoulder – his good one. And I am facing his butt, my feet being hung just by my toes on his shoulder and the hands he has wrapped around them. "Dean Winchester, if you fart, I _will_ kill you!" He threatened to drop me, and I wrapped my arms securely around his waist. He is no way going to drop me. "Okay, okay, okay!" He continued to act like he was going to drop me, swinging my whole body as he turned to face Sam who was all grouchy faced and serious. I'm starting to think this guy needs to lighten up.

I could practically feel the eye roll Sam was giving us, and I didn't care. I'm sure we looked like idiots, but as long as neither one of us were taking this moment too seriously, I was golden. "Guys, we can't just go after this thing," Sam sighed.

"Why not?" I mumbled from the behind Dean's head after he'd shifted me so that I was pulled up farther along his back and bent over his shoulder. "We know that it looks like Dean, and I kind of like this one," I patted Dean on the back, "and I think we should gank the imitator. He shall not _"be back"_," I made sure to try and imitate Arnold in all his _Terminator _glory.

I felt Dean move his shoulders in a chuckle and mumble, "Nice," up to me. I beamed.

"We have no weapons. No silver bullets," Sam huffed.

"Actually –" I started, but Dean shrugged me off his shoulder and started going back and forth with Sam.

"Sam, the guy's walkin' around with my face, okay, it's a little personal, I wanna find him," Dean growled.

Understandable, I think. Straightening out my shirt, I tried to speak again, only to once again be stopped, but this time by Sam. "Okay. Where do we look?" Sam was definitely in his "prove me wrong" mode, and that was a Sam that I wanted to just slap in the head. It was the Sam that made me feel dumb and angry.

"Well, we could start with the sewers," Dean suggested.

"We were just in the sewers… I have been in the sewers all day long, and the only thing I found was you guys. No Bowser," I shook my head, explaining.

"We _have no_ weapons! He stole our guns, we need more," Sam reiterated.

I stuck a tongue in my cheek. "Um, _actually_," I pulled the gun out of my pocket and subtly made sure the safety was on before I aimed it ahead of me, down the alley. "I have this gun, and it has silver bullets…"

The gun was instantly out of my hands and in Dean's where he checked the clip and then stuck the gun in his own waistband. What the heck? I missed preschool the day we learned how to share. That was _my_ gun. I didn't get my crap stolen. I didn't get kidnapped by a monster. "This isn't gonna be enough," Dean fixed his shirt over the gun so that you couldn't see it.

"Gimme back my gun!" I tried to reach over and grab it, but he held me at bay. "Hey! How come you get the gun? I'm the one who brought it."

"You're also the one who freezes when she sees the scary monster. Freezing isn't going to help us. You have to be able to shoot it, and we know you won't," Dean crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking me. Damn him, he was right.

I sighed and looked over to Sam. "So what are you thinking over there, Sam?" He was definitely thinking something. "Where are we gonna get weapons? There's like none at the motel, I checked. All I have is that gun and my knife." Sam held his hand out expectantly. "What?" He eyed me. "Nuh uh! I gotta give you my knife too now?! I'm not completely inept you guys!" I sulked as I slapped the shielded blade into his hand. "Stupid monster for taking the stupid Impala," I grumbled.

"The car," Sam spoke like an epiphany just hit him.

"I'm bettin' he drove over to Rebecca's," Dean added.

What? God, these two. "We _know_ he drove over to Rebecca's. I told you I saw him driving the Impala… Sam told you he was going to Rebecca's… It's like watching you try to do math or something," I disapprovingly teased as I watched the wheels work in Dean's head. "Besides the news said he fled on foot, so it's probably still parked there. But Sam doesn't wanna go over to Rebecca's until tomorrow, so I guess we should just head back over to the motel and get some shut eye," I yawned and stretched my arms into the air.

"The thought of him driving my car," Dean shuddered.

"All right, come on," Sam slapped a hand to my stomach while my arms were still in the air, causing me to instantly drop my arms and clutch at the impact.

Dean just started walking with Sam, both of them ignoring that I was still standing there, a little confused as to what just happened. "It's killing me," Dean whined.

"Let it go," Sam shook his head before looking back at me. "You coming back there, or do you want me to send the shifter to you?"

I quickly jogged over to them, linking my arm between theirs, standing in the middle. "That's not even funny, Sam. You don't make Dean fly, so why would you send monsters to me? I am starting to think that you like him more than me…"

"Oh, I already told you. I do."

"Seriously, you are like, the meanest older brothers ever," I sighed.

* * *

I was still linking arms with Sam as we walked down the street. "Well, what about that time that I brought you a cupcake for our birthday and Dean brought you half of the piece of pie he'd already eaten… and then still ate. You have to admit that my cupcake was the way better birthday-esque cake."

"I don't know, Becs. Dean did give me his pie, you know how he is with pie," Sam thought about it.

"He _ate_ the pie he gave you. Technically, you didn't even get it!"

"It's the thought that counts."

What was this guy on?! He can't honestly think Dean is better than me. I'm so much more awesome. "Dude, you've got to be kidding. I am forever the better sibling."

"Oh thank God," I heard Dean sigh out of relief.

"See!" I threw my hand forward in the air, signaling to Dean's reaction. "Dean agrees. I am way more awesome, and he's just finally glad someone said it. I'm sorry you felt the need to hold that in for so long, Dean," I dragged Sam along beside me as I went up to clap Dean on the shoulder with a mock sympathy look on my face.

Clearly Dean didn't understand that I was joking and being sarcastic – which I mean, I understand because I am so not that type of person. Real straight shooter, that's me. All business, no fun, no smiles, just frowns. The real "gr" type. Imagine it. _Grrrr._ You're right… that sounded like a kitten. "No, not you," Dean shrugged me off of him. "Look, my baby! There she is! Finally something went right tonight," he cooed.

I think he cooed? It's a little disturbing, his reaction that is. It wasn't a full blown coo but it was definitely a look of happiness and a twinkle in his eye when he saw it. That's creepy. Admit it. I was going to pick on him for it when a police car came and parked right next to the Impala. "Uh, way to bring on Karma there, Dean. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to say that things can't get worse?" I slowly pulled on his hand and turned us around so that we didn't seem suspicious, and another cop car parked a house or two down. "Because, when you do, it pours," I groaned. "No where do we go?"

"This way, this way," Dean quickly dragged me to the side of the houses towards a fence. Gee, I just love fences. What with the toe of my shoe never fitting in the little diamond holes, and then I usually get caught and tumble over, usually on Dean, but still.

"You go. I'll hold them off," Sam announced as he helped me up the fence.

I froze, looking down at him. "What? Sam, are you dumb? Come on, let's just go. We can come back when the cops leave!"

Dean was already over the fence, waiting for me, "She's right, they're gonna catch you."

Sam gave me a shove and I flew over the top of the fence, just catching myself on the other side. I glowered at him. "Look, they can't hold me, guys. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca's."

"How come I gotta get stuck with her?" Dean stuck a hand towards me.

I'm not that freaking horrible! Jeez, saved his stupid ass didn't I? I rolled my eyes and shoved his hand away. "Because, idiot, we already know that the thing looks like you. Why should we take the chance that it's gonna show up again. I'm going with you, so suck it up!" I turned on my heel, and quickly told Sam to stay human before I stomped off towards where ever the hell I was going. I didn't even know, and Dean was boob. I heard Dean suddenly behind me, and he grabbed my elbow, quickly dragging me to the side. "Get off me," I tried to pull out of his grasp.

He just dragged me to the side of a house, and to the front yard. Weren't we just here? Why are we back tracking? "Come on," he whispered when I saw the police surround Sam. "I can't wait," Dean moved like James Bond and was instantly at the trunk of the Impala, signaling for me to follow him.

"What are you doing?" I whispered as I kept an eye on Sam who was being questioned.

"We're going after that thing," Dean handed me my gun back and quietly closed the trunk after he'd gotten everything he needed. Of course we were.

Grimacing I slid the gun into my waistband, and we made our way back into the dark abyss that was the space between the houses, and towards the alley. Dean slapped a flashlight and the map in my hand, and quickly jogged over to the manhole that I'd pretty much adopted as my front door. "If you can't just lift it, there's a shovel nearby," I told him as he reached down.

No. He didn't need the shovel. I think he popped a blood vessel when he lifted it, but he did just lift it no problem. Totally the Hulk. "Go," he signaled for me to lead the way into the tunnel, which I did reluctantly.

After he was standing in the water with me, I pulled out the flashlight and map that showed my path from before. "Are you trying to go back to the room of doom?" I asked, not bringing my eyes from the map.

"Well, that's probably its lair, right?"

I nodded my head. "Okay, next time you guys want to make giant circles, let's not. Let's just stay where we are and wait for the monster to come to _us_. It might actually be easier that way. Here, we have to go this way," I folded the map and started towards the place I knew skin puddles just waited for me to fall into.

The walk seemed to take forever, but at least this time, I wasn't alone. I didn't even need the map, and Dean continuously tried to get me to pull it out. I _tried_ telling him that I knew where we were going, and I even used my own special landmarks. Skin puddle with my shoe imprint… Empty water bottle… place I lost my lunch… place I stuck my gum after it hurt my jaw to chew on it. I'm like a friggen genius. We finally made it into the candle lit room, no map needed, like I said! There were tons more skin puddles than before, and the smell was just disgusting. It definitely wasn't like this when the guys were here. I didn't really know what he was looking for until we heard an echoed moan and groan. Dean motioned for me to cover him, and my gun was instantly in the air with the safety off. We came around the corner to find a sheet covered _thing_. Nodding to Dean, a silent signal telling him that I was ready if need be, he quickly pulled the sheet off and I had to click the safety on my gun. It was Rebecca, tied up just like the guys were before.

She seemed SUPER relieved to see me, not so much Dean. I was instantly by Dean's side, helping to untie the ropes around her appendages. Taking the gag out of her mouth, I was met with tears. This time, I totally get the reason behind them. I didn't even feel awkward – no. Now I was a little more tense; if Rebecca was here, where the hell was the shifter. "Rebecca, what happened?" I was calm as I met her eyes.

"I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don't know, how is that even possible," she sobbed.

Oh my God. I looked at Dean, and I'm sure I looked petrified. "Dean, we gotta get to Sam, right now!" I was not liking this shifter. It knew how to draw us apart from one another and it seemed to be doing a damn good job at splitting us up and attacking us… well, Sam and Dean at least. "That thing is with him, right now, we gotta go," I was becoming panicked as I tugged on his arm and started flinging my hands around, the one still holding the gun which Rebecca didn't seem to appreciate as it flew by her face multiple times. Calm down, Nikki, the safety's on. "It could touch him, and then be him, and it's separating us, Dean! It's going to get us one by one, and we already know it's turned to you, and now Sam, and –"

Dean grabbed my arms and held them to my side, meeting my eyes, and a completely serious face. "Becca, calm down, okay? It's okay," he assured me. Then he turned to face Rebecca. "It's all gonna be okay. Can you walk?" I waited, impatiently as she slowly nodded her head, eyeing our conversation. "All right, we gotta hurry," he helped Rebecca to a standing position, and eyed her stance, making sure she didn't sway on her feet. "Sam went to go see you, and we stop that thing before it gets him."

"Dean, it's _already_ got him!" I screeched.

"Well, then we gotta move faster, okay? Come on," he growled as we started back down the tunnel.

After I had to practically drag and carry Rebecca - she was just not moving fast enough for my taste - we made it through the tunnels, up the ladder, down the alley, through the woods, past grandma's house, past Oz, and around the corner to where we knew Sam would be. I warned her to be quiet as Dean and I made our way into the house, Rebecca slowly following. You know, if she is this freaking slow all the time, maybe bringing her on hunts isn't a good idea. She'd be better as bait. We crept down the hall, guns raised when we heard a crash. I jumped, not liking the ideas of what just happened, and I rushed past Dean, only to find the shifter pinning and choking Sam to the living room floor. No one in the world is allowed to kill my brothers except me, and I definitely hadn't gotten Sam back for earlier. Dean quickly shouted "Hey" and the shifter turned to see us, guns raised. I went to pull the trigger and had to stop. It looked just like Dean, and my breath caught in my throat. I tried swallowing the lump when I heard two loud cracks and watched in horror as Dean's clone twisted when the bullets pierced into his chest and then fell to the ground, dead.

My breath was heavy as I stared at the figure on the ground. Dean went to the shifter and ripped something off of it, and Rebecca ran to Sam. I couldn't do anything. I was literally staring at a dead Dean, and even though I knew it wasn't the real Dean, it was still surreal. I know Dean wouldn't really try to choke Sam out on the floor. And I hope Dean wouldn't go all crazy and start putting people in spooky candle lit sewer rooms. Still, I couldn't catch my breath, and I couldn't convince myself that it wasn't my actual brother laying there, bleeding from the chest, looking at me with cold eyes. I don't like this game anymore.

Dean nodded to Sam and then was suddenly in front of me, blocking my view from seeing his fake corpse. "You okay?" he questioned, looking back at the dead monster.

I slowly nodded my head, unsure what to do or say, and suddenly it hit me. I punched Dean as hard as I could in his left shoulder, and I watched him grab it and grimace at me, clearly upset. "Oh thank God," I breathed as I threw myself into his chest and wrapped my arms around him tightly.

* * *

I sat in the backseat of the Impala while Dean leaned against it and read a map. Sam was saying good bye to Rebecca, which I'd already done. I definitely tried to get her to come and join us on the road, but she refused. I can't even say she politely declined; because, before I even finished the sentence, she shook her head and threw her hands up defensively, acting as though I was crazy for suggesting such a thing. Well, fine. I can just deal with Sam and Dean all by myself, and I totally knew what was next on my list of things. Sam and Dean crunched their doors open, and my head perked up when Sam's voice cut through the air.

"…thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon." Well that's exciting I guess.

Dean started the car, and pulled off in the direction of the motel. "Sorry, man," he sighed as we turned the corner.

"Damn straight, you should be," I quipped. Dean caught my eyes, a roll of his own meeting my wrinkled ones.

"About what?" Sam pushed past my comment, no problem.

Dean sighed as we slowed for a red light. "I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be… Joe College."

"No, that's okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in," Sam admitted.

I ruffled his hair with a grin. "Well, Sam, that's 'cause you're a freak. Look at you, you're like, a billion feet tall. Your arms are so long you pretty much drag your knuckles. You don't exactly have a beautiful sense of humor like me, or good taste in music. You actually enjoy researching. I think we should have you tested."

"Yeah, thanks," he grimaced moving away from the hand that was messing up his hair.

Well now I felt bad. Dean quickly fixed the mood though, "Well, I'm a freak, too. I'm right there with ya, all the way. And Becca? She's not even human. She's a dog face."

"Hey!"

Sam laughed and winked at me. "Yeah, I know."

I just frowned and waited for Dean to turn off the car as we pulled into the parking lot of the motel. "You know, I gotta say – I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it."

"Miss what?" I sighed.

"How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?" Um, that's not even a funny thought. That's disturbing.

* * *

"Would you just trust me? Take those bags off the table, we gotta throw them away."

"This isn't goin' to work."

"Yes it will! Now hurry up! He's gonna be out of the shower soon."

"And what about these?" Dean huffed, pointing to the pile on his bed.

Turning around, I rolled my eyes as I bit off the plastic thing that was connecting my purchase to the tag. "I said to hide them!" I watched as he threw his previously discarded blanket over them, clearly showing there was some sort of pile underneath.

He looked up at me and tried to fight his oncoming smile – a sure sign that he was guilty and trying to play innocent. I glowered and stuck my hands on my hips. He shrugged, the smile continuing to grow as he slowly started to give in to it. God, he can really be useless sometimes. However, I found it almost always impossible to not laugh and smile myself when he had that face. Sam always got angry. See, I am very highly and easily amused. I also have a similar personality to Dean – you may or may not have noticed. It's a bit hard for us to be serious around each other all the time.

"What?" he tried to feign innocence.

I stuck my tongue in my cheek and tried to fight off my own incoming smile. I threw up a finger and pointed at him. "What do you mean "_what_"?" I couldn't help it. I was matching him with a full grin. "He's gonna notice that!" I pointed to the lump on the bed.

Dean looked at the bed, "What?" he repeated with the same tone.

"The lump!" I couldn't stop grinning as I spoke.

"Don't you wave lacy underwear at me!" he tried to be serious as he nodded to the bright blue, lace thong I'd been taking the tag off of.

Rolling my eyes at him, I just stuffed the underwear into Sam's bag. "Dean, he's gonna see the pile under your blanket."

"Oh, you're nuts!" he was being both judgmental and joking as he waved me off and plopped down on his side, on the bed and flipped on the TV via the remote clutched in his hand.

I grabbed the semi large pile of brightly colored thongs and stuffed them into Sam's duffel, trying to make it look like they'd always been there. "Can you _please_ just hide them?" I whined as I began to re-stuff other clothing back into the bag. I needed to bury the evidence!

"I don't wanna touch Sam's underwear. It's bad enough I have to have it sitting on my bed," he groaned.

"Dean, they're clean," I argued, zipping up the bag and dropping it on the floor beside Dean's and mine.

"Think fast," I heard him say. Spinning around to face him, I was instantly blinded by darkness as cloth smacked into my face and draped over my entire head. Screaming as I grabbed Sam's underwear and threw them onto the floor, I looked up at Dean, a hard glare in my eyes, and a bright, red hue to my cheeks.

I clenched my fists at my side and kicked the underwear away from me. "Not funny!" I tried to sound angry, but I was smirking and finding it hard to play that I was upset. Dean was looking around the room, meeting everything but my eyes. He had that stupid "_I don't know what's going on, I'm just staring at the water marks on the ceiling_" look on his face. "Dean!"

He finally met my eyes. "You said they were clean," he practically hummed the words with how good of a mood he was in.

Picking up the underwear from the floor, I threw them at his head. They fell short and landed on the bedspread in front of him. Fail. We both looked at it, and then at each other, and then it again. "Just get rid of them!" I groaned. Dean stood up and whipped the blanket back – after grabbing the lone pair off the top of the comforter – with such force that it billowed in the air and then landed on the ground. "Well _that_ was unnecessary."

"You're unnecessary," he remarked grabbing all of Sam's underwear.

"Your face is unnecessary," I mused, throwing myself onto my stomach, onto Dean's bed, after bunching up the blanket and tossing it onto the mattress. "Not in the trash!"

Dean had stepped over to the plastic bin in the corner of the room, fully intending to drop all of Sam's underwear inside of it. "You said to get rid of them!"

"Not literally!"

Sighing dramatically, like the overgrown three year old he is, Dean pulled out the empty box his beer had come in, and stuffed them inside. "Happy?" He threw his hands in the air.

"Rub my feet?" I joked, wiggling my toes that were suspended in the air on the ends of my bent legs, while I laid on my stomach.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and shrugged. "Sure."

Holy crap, is he serious?! "For real?" I asked, and boy did I sound hopeful. Dean nodded and moved towards the bed. Right before he was about to sit down, he jumped and body slammed against me, crushing me into the mattress, just as Sam walked out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel while water still dripped down his chest. Oh man, did that hurt! I groaned and tried to move, but Dean was legit sitting on my back.

"So you can kill her, but I can't?" Sam questioned with wide eyes as he took in the sight before him.

"Shut up, Sam" I grumbled lifting my head up to meet him. "And put on some clothes! I'm impressionable!"

Dean just shifted himself on my back and I think I felt a lung pop. What did this guy weigh?! I struggled against him, kicking him with my bent legs and feet the best I could. "What the hell?" Sam suddenly groaned as he searched through his bag. Dean grabbed my feet, making my control over them practically nonexistent. Both Dean and I suddenly shot our heads up to Sam, who was angry and looking into his bag. "What the hell is this?" he looked as us and indicated to the bag like it was some sort of piece of trash.

"What?" I questioned completely smooth and innocently while Dean just tightened his hold on my legs and feet.

Sam dug into his bag and pulled out a finger, a bright, lime green thong dangling off of its tip. "Why the hell are your underwear in my bag?"

I laughed, literally straight out HA-ed in his face. "Sam, those aren't my underwear. Besides, they're in _your_ bag."

"These aren't mine," Sam defended as he dropped them on the table next to where he'd set his bag.

"I don't know, man," Dean shrugged. "You didn't deny wearing women's underwear."

I nodded my head, agreeing. "I just didn't think you'd ever admit to it, Sam. I honestly thought you more of a boxer man myself. I guess it's true what they say. College will change you. No wonder people thought you were a freak, I mean, those are cute though…"

"These aren't my underwear. What'd you jerks do with them?"

"Sam," Dean sighed, as though he were going to confess, and slapped the small plastic device from the bedside table into my palm.

Sam turned to face us after quickly rummaging around in his bag. He had a handful of brightly colored thongs in one hand, a handful of his towel so it didn't fall in the other, and his face was priceless. The minute his eyes turned to Dean and me, we both clicked snapshots on our cell phones. Priceless.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen.**

**Oh my gosh. I am so happy I got a chapter out to you guys! Yay! You should be so happy! Trust me, I put off homework for you lovelies.**

**All right, first things first. I didn't actually get very far into the episode at all. Seriously. I barely scratched the surface - but that's okay because I added some of my own stuff. And if you don't like, suck it up. :) I have to actually do homework tomorrow though - sorry.  
Really though - I hope you enjoy it.**

**Major thanks to those of you who review, PM, and add me to your lists. I adore each and every one of you. I would adore all you others just as much, but you gotta review. Come on guys, 3000 plus views with 53 reviews? I can't know what to fix if you don't tell me.**

**Beyond extra thanks to Jenmm31, once again. She helped me through my struggles in this chapter, and you all know the right way to thank her. Go read, review, and add her story. Now. Like, leave mine to do it, and then come back. I hope this lives up to yours, and her, expectations.**

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**And the normal ... DISCLAIMER.**

* * *

_Riiiiiiip. Ssssssss._

_Riiiiiiip. Ssssssss._

_Riiiiiiip. Ssssssss._

_Riiiiiiip. Ssssssss._

_Riiiiiiip. Ssssssss._

"Damn, Bec, you want some coffee with that sugar?" Dean grunted with wide eyes as he looked over the top of Sam's laptop that was open and sitting in front of him. I lifted an eyebrow as I dropped my fifth, now empty, white sugar packet, and allowed it to slowly fall on top of its similar companions. I looked down at the coffee in front of me, where the sugar was surely clumped at the bottom, and blinked my eyes in its uprising steam, and then flicked my eyes back up to Dean's expectant green ones. Grabbing a stick out of the cup sitting just on the other side of the gray laptop, I stuck it into my mug and quickly spun it around in the liquid.

I took the handle to the creamer cup and poured enough in so that the liquid in front of me turned a light brown before it rose up and filled the space of my mug, settling at the rim. Slowly continuing to stir my new concoction, I set the creamer back aside before I removed my stir stick and licked off the dripping coffee. "Not all of us can handle the taste of burnt dirt, Dean," I told him, setting my stick onto my napkin. I met his widened eyes with a smile as I gathered my hair into my hand and then leaned forward, slowly sucking enough coffee into my mouth so that it was back to its original height in the mug. "Ah," I leaned back and settled in my chair, "delicious."

My grin widened as Dean rolled his eyes and went back to tapping the mouse pad and shifting his sight from the screen to the small book in front of him. I was growing bored. Like, really, really bored. The hair that was draped over my shoulder and onto my chest was no longer entertaining, and I threw the strand I'd been spinning between my fingers down, crossing my arms and then huffing out of annoyance. I gripped a few more randomly colored packets from where I'd collected my sugar, and I began to try and set them up on the table, between its surface and my finger. This better work.

"Don't even think about it," Dean murmured, not even looking at me, from where he was hunched over and scribbling away in his book.

"I wasn't even gonna do anything," I groaned as I gathered up the packets and shoved them back into their small, porcelain container.

He glanced up at me, out of the corner of his eye, and scoffed happily. "So, you weren't going to pretend those were paper footballs and my head was the goal post?" Damn him. I just threw myself into the back of the chair and lowered my lids at him, annoyed. How did he always know what I was gonna do!? "Face it, Becs. You're just like me, I know you better than you know yourself."

"Oh, I don't know, Dean," I mused. A smug smirk crossed my lips as he just sat up, a tongue behind his lip and a brow arched up. He twitched his head, signaling for me to continue. I ran my finger along the rim of my mug, knowing that this was such a horrible thing to come back with, but I couldn't help it. It was the first thing that crossed my mind, and I usually don't second guess those things; I'm sure you've noticed. Picking my mug up, I held it with both hands, staring at the liquid slowly trembling inside of it, unable to meet Dean's eyes. "I know myself pretty well… Both in and out, I mean last night, when I was in the shower, the things I –"

"All right, enough," he was stern and I'm guessing from the way his face was twisted up, I'd successfully grossed him out. I sipped my coffee and shrugged my shoulders as I set the mug onto the table top.

"What?" I asked innocently as a waiter walked by and winked at me, causing me to shoot him a smile. "Oh, I could let that guy know me," I turned to watch the waiter walk by, sending him a wink when he caught my eye before asking the couple what they wanted.

I turned back around in my seat and was met with a face that made me instantly feel like I was a little kid who had done exactly what they were told not to do. I felt a pout form on my full lips, and my eyes suddenly didn't feel as wide or as bright. I'm pretty sure your older brother isn't supposed to have the parent effect on you. Am I right? But sadly, Dean had always had that effect on me; from as far back as I can possibly remember.

_"Beeeeecccccaaaaaaa! Knock it off!" Sam whined from where he sat across from me on the floor, the large ice cream bucket sitting in between us._

_I tipped the bucket over, spilling out the semi-decent collection of Lego's we had. "But you got all the good ones! You got t' share!" I reached a hand over my what was supposed to be a car, and the now created splay of colors, and plucked off a long skinny piece from Sam's "space station" as he called it. Sam threw his clenched fists down on to the floor, and glared at me, quickly snatching the piece from my hand before I could attach it to my disaster of a build. "Hey!" I groaned as the Lego scratched at my skin when he pried it out of my grasp._

_"I said t' knock it off!" Sam snapped the yellow piece back into its previous place and then pulled the whole build closer to him._

_Searching my hand for anything that I could consider an injury I looked up quickly, glaring at Sam. "So!"_

_"So, I'm older, and you have to listen to me," he had a triumphant, smug smile on his face while he sifted through the Lego's and grabbed more skinny pieces from the pile._

_"You're takin' them all," I reached my whole body forward and tried to grab them from his hands._

_Sam pulled back and quickly snapped his fist around his back, leaning away from me. I fell back onto my spot on the moth eaten, motel carpet, and bit my tongue. This was _not_ fair. Sam couldn't have all the good pieces! Look at that stupid space station! And why is he so good at Lego's? My car looks like a skateboard, and my little people aren't gonna be able to drive to work. I just stared at his creation when a thought dawned on me. I slowly reached forward to the wall closest to me, while Sam silently worked on the wall closest to him. I could just feel the plastic under the pads of my finger tips when Dean sighed, bored from where he half-laid on the couch behind us. He didn't look up from the car magazine he was sifting through, and he barely enunciated his words when he said, "Don't even think about it, Becca."_

_I shot my head over my shoulder, my hair falling in my face. I attempted to wipe it away and ended up just creating a broken array of visibility through the strands. "But, Deeeeean! He's got all the good pieces! I can't even build my car for my Lego people!" I waited for a response, and he just shrugged while turning the page. Why was he even looking at that, he couldn't drive. He was only eleven. I huffed and turned back to face Sam's station, which was quickly coming to a close._

_Turning my head slightly, I made sure Dean wasn't looking, and then bit my bottom lip. I quickly snatched forward and brought the entire wall of Sam's structure back with my hand. "BECCA!" Sam bellowed when he realized what I did._

_I was quickly and frantically pulling the wall apart when suddenly a larger hand appeared from over my head and pulled me up by my arm. "Dean, he got all the g –"_

_Dean's lids and brows narrowed so low that I instantly stopped talking. "I said not to do it."_

_"So!?"_

_"So I'm in charge!"_

_"Well, I think that's dumb!"_

_"Well, I think you're dumb!"_

_"You're dumber!" Dean shot me a look of low eyes and a tight jaw. It totally read disappointment and that I'd brought him to his point of being fully fed up. I instantly felt guilty and could feel the pressure of the tears behind my rims. I didn't fight it as Dean grabbed the rest of the broken wall from my hand, and gently tossed it back to Sam, and then forcefully opened my hands, allowing the pieces that I'd broken off to fall to my feet. I hung my head and threw myself onto the couch and into the crook between the back and the arm. I glared at my knees that were bent up in front of me as I crossed my arms over my chest. Dumb ole Dean and his dumb ole looks. "He got all the good pieces!" I huffed from where I continued to glare at my knees while Dean leaned on the opposite arm of the couch and started looking through his magazine once again._

_He flipped the page, and had the same bored tone in his voice as he quickly shifted back into his lazy mode from before. "I don't wanna hear it."_

_My eyes shot to the magazine and I felt myself wishing that someone would take his magazine just like he took my Lego's. He was always on Sam's side! I watched as Sam stood up and stretched his hands over his head, his stomach arching towards the couch a little. He had a huge grin on his face as he picked up his fully built space station and then set it on the table by the door. Dean turned his head to catch Sam who was double checking everything. "You're first for the shower tonight, Sammy," he announced. Sam nodded his head, and promptly walked over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. "And you get to pick up the Lego's," he turned back to his magazine while speaking to me on the other side of its shiny pages._

_"That's not fair!" My legs dropped and my left foot fell to the floor with a thud as my mouth hung open in distress._

_"You dumped them."_

_"Sam played with them, too!"_

_"_You_ dumped them."_

_I stood up and began stomping my way over to the beds, fully ready to just throw myself into the one that I shared with Sam when Dean stood up and stepped in front of me. He had his arms crossed and a tongue in his cheek, the magazine rolled up in one of his hands. I looked up and he had that same look of being completely fed up with me, and anger. I threw my hands in the air, aggravated, and then stomped back around the couch before throwing myself to my knees. I grabbed as many Lego's in each of my fists as I could, and threw them into the bucket with such force that they bounced at the impact. I heard the springs of the couch squeak as Dean settled back into it, eyes glued to his magazine once more._

"Stop looking at me like that," I grumbled as I picked up my mug once more. I stared at the liquid that was no longer steaming, and watched as the little bubbles clung to the sides of the mug and slowly popped, one by one.

His eyes didn't waver as his voice broke through the air. He suddenly looked away from me, and up into the distance. "Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin' cold over here, Francis," he teased Sam who was just appearing beside me. I didn't bring my eyes up from my coffee as Sam dropped into the chair next to me. I could tell by the waves of frustration rolling off of him and thickening the air that he wasn't exactly in a good mood.

"Bite me," he barked out bitterly as he reached forward for the mug that had been cooling and waiting for him while he'd been on the pay phone. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I needed a break from Dean's power look, or something, but either way, the crap happened. I quickly jumped forward and sunk my teeth into Sam's outstretched forearm. Yep, I just bit him. If you wanna be technical, he did actually tell me to… and he was my older brother, so I am supposed to listen to him, right? I froze when his arm tightened, and I looked out of the corner of my eye and up to him, meeting his wide, completely shocked eyes.

Slowly pulling back, I wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb and cleared my throat. Sam was still wide eyed and in mid reach for his mug while Dean was staring at me with a mix of surprise and maybe he was even a little impressed? You never can really tell with him, can you? Picking up my coffee, I sipped it hastily. "What, are you Hannibal Lecter all of a sudden?" Dean's voice caused my eyes to snap from the bottom of my mug to his jovial eyes that were also scrunched with confusion.

"You tell me. I mean, you said you know me better than I know myself… _Am_ I a cannibal? 'Cause if I am, you should be worried. I like midnight snacks," I toyed with a bit of venom. His look from earlier still stung a little bit. Who was he to tell me what I could and couldn't act like? Granted he didn't do it _verbally_, but the implication was still there. He had told me to shut my trap and that I was wrong for making such a comment.

Sam slowly sipped his coffee as he shot his eyes back and forth between Dean's and my own. We were both staring at each other intently, neither one of us attempting to back down. "Okay, what did I miss?"

"Becca was over here telling me about how _well_ she knows herself, and then practically threw herself at the waiter," Dean told him, not even blinking.

"Oh come off it! I did not!" I set down my empty mug and turned to face Sam, dramatically. "_Dean_ said he knows me better than myself. So I just told him I wasn't sure because I know myself _pretty_ well. Then I winked at the waiter. Then he told me to shut up."

"I didn't tell you to shut up."

"Yeah huh, with your eyes," I groaned as I slammed my hand on the table, shaking it slightly. I whipped my head around so fast that my loose hair flicked over my arm and landed on my chest. I think I need a haircut… This mess is just getting to be too long.

"With my eyes?" He slouched in his chair and gave me his best "_are you shitting me right now_" face.

I clenched my jaw and lowered my eyes until they were just slits. "_Yes._ With. Your. Eyes. You do it all the time! And I know you know you do it! And I did _not_ throw myself at the waiter," I shoved a hand up towards the man as he came to collect my mug. His eyes practically bugged out of his head and landed in my hand at my words. "I winked at him, 'cause he's hot. Is that a crime now?" The waiter just froze, my mug sitting in his tight grasp as his eyes surprisingly widened even more. Dean shot him a look, signaling that he should disappear, and shocker, he sped away without a second thought or glance to me.

Dean watched the waiter disappear into the door of the coffee shop and then leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit so that the people around us wouldn't hear him. "It is when you're going on about how you know yourself _inside_ and out. I mean, you were talking about how in your shower you got all up in your lady busi –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam's voice cut over us as he choked on his drink. "You _what_?" he set the mug down and turned to face me with the tightest brows he's ever had knitted on his forehead.

"I didn't say I for sure got all up in my lady busi –" I was definitely louder than Dean had been as I ignored Sam.

"Becca!" Sam yelled over me, gaining looks from surrounding tables. "You were _what_?"

I leaned back in my chair, my tongue tucked behind my lower lip as I looked away from them and towards a trashcan. I was beyond pissed right now. Dean was such a hypocrite. That guy talked about, checked out, and practically undressed every girl he saw. And I make one comment, and all of a sudden I feel like that seven year old who was getting in trouble for wrecking Sam's stupid space station. "It was a joke, Sam. Just a joke. And even if I did get all up in my lady business, so what? I don't need my big brother reprimanding me like I'm some child. And I certainly don't need grief for winking at some waiter."

It was completely silent as I continued to look at the trashcan. I didn't even hear the taps of the keyboard, so I knew they were both either looking at each other, or looking at me. Either way, I'm not freaking apologizing. Nuh uh. Dean was the douche in today's scenario. Judging me with those stupid eyes of his. Okay, so maybe I was overreacting at the whole thing. But that doesn't make him judging me any less of a slap in the face. It's like I have to second guess everything I do around him lately. No, I will not apologize.

"And I _did_ get all up in my lady business last night," I finally looked at Dean, a glare still in my eyes and the smug smile back on my lips, "and it was soooooo good. Euphoric almost. Want specific details? Unless you already know them…"

I'd allowed the words to pass my lips so quickly that it was like someone had slapped both of them in the face. And I couldn't help but smile at the look on Dean's face.

Dean chewed on his tongue, and I saw the anger flash in his eyes, and that only made my smug smile grow. Good, I hope he was pissed. "I'm done talking to you."

"Good. You have an irritating voice anyway."

"I'm warning you, Becca."

"Ooh, look at me shake."

"Damn it, Becca. If you don't stop –"

"What? You'll make me sit in a stupid corner or something? I'm twenty-two, Dean. Not seven. Remember that."

The look I got from him seriously made me more pissed off at myself than anything. I hated to fight with the jackass, but it was just inevitable. He just made me so… so… ANGRY! Gahd. I can't even believe that all of this stemmed off of a stupid comment. I couldn't believe I allowed myself to get this upset over it, actually. That was the part I was angriest at. I just didn't like that hold Dean had over me. I know he's my brother – but damn it, I respected the guy. Sure, it doesn't _look_ like I do, but I really do. Promise. And I look up to him, still! I want to make sure he's proud, please him. That look made me feel like a failure and now I just wanted to scratch out those dumb old eyes that knew how to make me feel guilty at the drop of a hat. Jackass big brothers.

"Okay, you guys. That's enough," Sam's tone wasn't harsh, or pleading like it normally was when he had his girl face on. He just watched me, and I'm sure he saw my stupid angry tears on my rims. I hate these tears and I want them gone even more than Dean's stupid "_you must feel guilty_" look – which he still had. "Come on, Becs, relax."

I didn't realize I'd been clutching the arm of the metal chair so tightly! My knuckles were white and when I released my grip my palm had crescent moon indents from where my nails had dug in. Holy shit, was I bleeding? I friggen cut my own hand! "You're right. Did you find anything out about Dad? Is he sitting on the beach, waiting for us? Because I could definitely use that right now." My voice was still shaky, but I had to change my focus of attention. If I didn't, something bad would happen, and it might involve the Impala. Oh yeah, I was gonna hit Dean where it hurt.

"No," Sam chuckled. "I had 'em check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations."

"Did you really expect him to be in there?"

"I was hoping…"

I patted Sam's arm and then sighed when Dean opened his mouth. "Sam, I'm tellin' ya, I don't think Dad wants to be found." Sam turned towards me and looked completely devastated. I felt so bad. All the kid wanted was answers, and the only person we knew who would be able to give them to us, was completely ignoring us. He was supposed to be there for us, and he wasn't, and I felt a warm rush of anger in my veins and a new anger pulsated through me. An anger for my absentee father. "But here, check this out," Dean tried as he turned the laptop around so that we could both see it from where we sat, across from him. "It's a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It's only about a hundred miles from here.

Sam didn't even feign interest. He just chewed on his tongue and tapped the arm of the chair with his hand. Wow. He was probably as angry as I was. I didn't want to, but I met Dean's eyes, and I saw them soften. Damn it. Now I had to shove _our_ shit to the back burner to be there for Sam. Can I just not be pissed for more than thirty minutes a day?! I groaned and pulled the computer closer to me, reading the article to Sam.

"Here, Sam, listen. It says that "_The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on 9 Mile Road. Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The _sole eye_witness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible."_ Invisible?" I shot my eyes over the screen of the computer and saw Dean nod to me.

"Could be something interesting," Dean added. It was completely clear that our argument was no longer the issue and we were focused on this. I'm glad we could come to this agreement, Dean – but don't you worry. We will be discussing your harsh eye lectures later. I don't know when, but it's gonna happen.

Sam turned his head and his mouth was tight while he shut the computer in front of me, catching my finger in it. "Or it could be nothing at all. One freaked out witness who didn't see anything? Doesn't mean it's the _Invisible Man_."

"Well, grumpy pants, what if it _is _the _Invisible Man_? Huh? You read that book? You never know what's out there, Sam. I say we go check it out. Dean said it's only about a hundred miles from here, so that's not too far. And we can continue to search for Dad, all right? I'll help you. Hell, I'll even… _research_ if you need me to. Just, try to focus that negative energy elsewhere," I tried to tell him.

He caught my eyes before finishing his coffee. ""_Try to focus that negative energy elsewhere_"? Becs, you just about had Dean's head on a plate because of how he _looked_ at you. Don't you think that's a little hypocritical? God, how do you even flip the switch like that?"

Is that a _tone_ in his voice? Boy, don't you come at me like that! "This isn't _about_ Dean and his judgmental looks, Sam. This is about us having to figure this case out. This is what is going to keep us going until we find Dad. Got it? We're doing this case, whether you want to or not. So just put on your lacy girl thongs and get over this. And the next time you try to get me to refocus my energy on some fight I'm having with Dean, just remember, that's a fight I'm having with _Dean_. Don't you get all involved in my lady business, too!"

I stood up from the table so quickly my chair toppled over. I grabbed the computer from under Sam's hands and dropped a few bills on the table before heading over to where the Impala was parked. Stupid Sam and his stupid way of bringing up stupid arguments that he wasn't even a part of.

* * *

I was at a frat house. Boy Howdy I was at a frat house! I don't know about you college goers but _I_ have never been to a frat house, but I have seen _Animal House_, and I was BEYOND excited to have a toga party. Oh man, this was gonna be FREAKING fabulous. Bouncing up and down with anxiousness as we parked, I groaned audibly when Sam asked "Why are we here?"

"Boys. There are boys in there, and we are going to hang out with boys. BOOOOOOYYYYYYSSS," I could just not emphasize that enough.

"I'm a boy," Dean turned in his seat to face me.

"No, you're my brother. Ergo, you're a eunuch," I argued.

Dean seemed to not understand, and turned to Sam for verification. "She said you have no… _downstairs_."

"I am too fully functioning!" Dean hollered as he turned to face me.

"Yeah, well, you don't wanna hear about my lady business," I used my hand to gesture in a circle to my lap, "and I don't wanna hear about your mister business," I then circled to the seat where his lap sat. "Deal?"

"Deal," he nodded.

Sam didn't seem to like the fact that Dean and I were completely ignoring the argument we'd had – as per normal – and he just sighed and waited. We both eyed each other, and then Sam. We weren't going to blow up or something, so he can just get over it. We said what needed to be said, both vocally and not, and we were done… For now. I know it might eventually resurface; but I'm not going to ruin my good time of hanging out with people other than my brothers. "One more time," he huffed after no one talked like he'd wanted. "_Why_ are we here? And if you say "_boys_" I will slap you," his finger was suddenly inches away from my nose as he had this look where he tries to act like he's in charge. Brosif, please. Oh, and I am totally accepting your challenge, there Sam.

"Bo –"

"Because the victim lived here," Dean cut over me as we crawled out of the car and started towards the house. Ah, drats. Stopped by the gorilla. There was a guy fixing a car… while eating a banana, speaking of gorillas. Oh those darn college students and their multitasking. Gets me every time. "Nice wheels," Dean nodded to the guy that had just slid out from under the car on one of those rolly things. That was _not_ a nice ride, not even close. The Impala is a nice ride, this was like a rust bucket with no rust... So a bucket. Whatever, I didn't like it.

And don't go telling Dean I call it a rolly thing. That is a _whole_ different argument. I don't need that one today, because that one Sam probably won't even be able to stop. The guys stopped working on the vehicle and both eyed me up and down. Man, even if these guys weren't the hottest, I was totally soaking it in. It was about time _I_ got recognized for my good looks. Forget Sam and Dean always getting noticed. We are definitely going to have to look into finding more boys to save. Neither of them shifted their eyes from me until Dean cleared his throat. Sam stepped in front of me, and stood himself up to his full height, you know, the size of a Red Sequoia. Isn't that brother-tough-guy thing just adorable?

"We're, uh, we're your fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We're new in town. Transfers looking for a place to stay," Dean came up with, shooting them his famous grin.

The guy with the banana gazed at them apprehensively. Taking a bite from the banana, and then pointing to my face, where I was peeking around Sam, he spoke through his food. "And her?" Oh man, that's gross. I could see all the chewed banana chunks… Bleck. Totally disgusting. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, "_But Becca! You talked with your mouth full_." Um, that was to Dean, and I thought we all just decided he was a eunuch and didn't actually count. Problem solved.

I stepped to the side of Sam, my pearly whites blaring, "Oh me? Well, I'm –"

I was instantly pulled tightly to Sam's side. "Off limits," both Dean and Sam spoke with finality to the banana kid.

Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Seriously? Didn't we just decide that we were not going to worry about each other's businesses?

Banana kid nodded, and it was a quick nod. Not one of those agreeable nods, definitely one of the "_please don't kill me for eyeing your sister_" nods. I knew those nods. Those nods flooded my life. He signaled for us to follow him, and we'd started up the walk when I slapped Sam.

"I thought we agreed that you weren't going to worry about what goes on with my lady business!?"

"That was Dean. _I_ don't want to _know_ what happens with your lady business. But I'm not going to just go handing your lady business out," he explained. Well how noble.

I then turned and smacked Dean. "I thought we agreed about the lady business!"

"We did," he nodded. "I'm not going to worry about your lady business, because I'm not going to allow anything to _happen_ to your lady business. Don't have to worry about something that has no threat of being harmed, right?"

Did he just chastity belt my lady business?


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty.**

**I got another one out! Yuss! I don't know that I will be able to get one out after this, until next weekend though. I'll try really hard, but I have to refocus my attention now. Massive amounts of apologies.**

**Thank you reviewers, PMers, and adders! You guys are THE best. And thank YOU for actually reading. It makes me so happy to see that pepole read this fanfic. It makes me feel like I'm actually doing something right!**

**Not that I got much farther, but I've been assured that it's completely fine, because it just means that you get more chapters to read, and the story takes a longer time. No one gets upset over a long _Supernatural_ story, do they? I hope not.**

**ENJOY. READ. REVIEW. :)**

**Disclaimer.  
song: ****_Milkshake - _****Kelis  
movie: _¡Three Amigos!_**

* * *

Banana Kid walked us through the door way of the house and into a large area that was what he called the "common room". It looked like a living room to me, but he seemed to stress the "common room" aspect of it. What, does being in college change what rooms are or something? Get real. It's a living room, with a ratty old couch where some guy was staring at a book. It looked like a really thick Physics book, and he looked like he wasn't even reading it. His eyes were pretty glazed over. Seems brutal. If I ever go to college, I am def not taking Physics. I'll take something bad ass… As Banana Boy lead us through the common area and introduced us all to a few people, my smile continued to grow, and the scowl on Sam's face deepened. Dean seemed a little more at ease – I'm pretty sure that's because he thinks that he basically just va-jay blocked me for life. Oh, Dean, I have my ways. However, this was not that kind of search, not tonight anyway. I was just finally excited to be around people, my own age, other than Sam and Dean. Yeah, I mean, they're pretty cool – most of the time – but still, I do like to mingle with people besides them. And how often do you get to go to a college campus and hang out with the students? Not too often. No, I could finally relax, and still solve a case. Two birds, people! I finally got that college multitasking down. Nodding to each of the guys I was introduced to, my smile grew. These guys all _seemed_ decent and charming, and they were smiley. I think that calls for a good time. Hello, new friends! Apparently though, Sam had had enough introductions because his claw was suddenly wrapped around my upper arm and he was asking where our room was.

He practically shoved me ahead of him as we started up the stairs. "Okay, hey, Goliath, do you wanna get your paws off me?" I yanked my arm away from him as I turned around on the top of the landing. He'd rushed me up here and away from everyone down below, and I had just about had it.

"Well, when you can act like a regular human being, maybe I'll stop treating you like a little kid," he bit as he towered over me.

What the hell?! "_Act like a regular human being_"? Who was this guy? "Excuse me? And what _exactly_ did I do that was so unlike a regular human being? Huh? Please, tell me, oh great one," I hissed. "All I did was say "_Hi_" to some people. It's called manners. I was just being friendly."

"Are you serious? Did you not see those guys down there, drooling over you?"

"So what?! It's not like I sat there and gave them my number or something. Jesus, you make me sound like some stripper. They were just guys, Sam. And besides, I can't help if they like what I've got. I mean, my milkshake _do_es bring all the boys to the yard," I jested. Come on, if I had wanted those guys to be into me, I would have done way more than just smiled and greeted them. I winked at Sam, trying to just blow off the argument and move on. I'd had enough big brother bullshit and definitely didn't need to add more to the pile of crap I'd been trying to forget happened.

Spinning, I started down the hall, my hands tucked into my back pockets when Sam's voice sliced through the air with a slick cut to my ego. "God, you act like such a whore, Becca."

It was like the wind knocked out of me when I whipped my head around and closed the distance between us with two giant steps. Dean was instantly between us, his hand against me, blocking me from completely walking up to stand toe-to-toe with Sam. My hand was raised, and oh did I want to smack it across that tight jaw of his. That son of a motherless goat. I couldn't bring my hand to actually make contact with his stupid face. It just sort of hovered there, and then slowly formed a point as a menacing finger shook in between his eyes. "Don't you _ever_ call me a whore! Do you understand me!? I put up with a _lot_ of shit, Sam, and I will _not_ put up with _you_ calling me a whore. Not… not you."

"Well maybe if you stopped acting like one –" Dean cut him off and my hand dropped by my side. It was clenched into a fist, but it was a defeated fist. A fist that felt like it had just been embarrassed in front of the classroom of peer fists. The fist that had been picked on, and shoved around the circle of guys in the bar because it made a pass at _one_ guy who didn't mention he had a reputation for _sharing_. The fist whose big brother had to come over and beat up the asshole fists before he then yelled at her for going and getting drunk at twenty years old while still at the bar; and then took her home to Daddy fist.

"Sam, that's enough," Dean grunted. He clapped Sam on the chest and then we both stood there as Sam shoved past us and made his way down the hall towards one of the rooms that Banana Kid had told us about.

I could feel the pain start to rise in my throat, and I tore my eyes away from Dean and to the floor board. Damn it that just makes fighting the tears a billion times harder. I then shifted my whole head back and stared up to the blinding light on the ceiling. The stupid thing had purple streaks of paint on it, and ew, what is that brown stuff? I don't even wanna know. Dean shuffled on his feet and I brought my water filled eyes down to meet his gaze. Well, down, but up from where I was standing. He is only six inches taller than me… Ha, only… I bit my lip when his eyes lowered and softened. Great. Now he was pitying me.

"Bec, he just –"

"No, Dean, don't defend him. Obviously I'm just some _whore_, I mean, he would know… right? He's been back about two months… He totally knows everything. Being gone for four years doesn't m-mean anything-g-g." Great. Now I was choking on my words as they fought past the lump in my throat.

I heard Dean sigh as I just shut my eyes and shook my head, wrapping my arms tightly around me. Sam didn't know _anything_. No, he walked out of that door and didn't look back. He didn't answer my calls, he wasn't there on my downward spiral that Dean saved me from while my father just got in my face and left me locked in a motel room. But hey, no, he knew enough to call me a _whore_. And this had been the kid I'd desperately missed. I just tightened my arms around my torso when the anger I'd had earlier that day, along with the anger I'd felt when Sam left without a good bye all rushed at me at once. Was I really that horrible of a person? Did my brother really have that much disgust for me? The way he looked at me… It was like he never wanted anything to do with me again. I felt ashamed… dirty, like I was some outcast in his eyes.

I froze when Dean wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his chest. This was so unlike him. Worried Dean who searched my face to make sure I understood what he was telling me, while also making sure I was still safe? That Dean I knew. Jackass Dean who gave me looks that made me feel like a child who was in trouble, all because of a look? I knew that Dean really well. Big brother Dean who woke me up by smacking a pillow to my face and breaking my nose when I was sixteen? Hell yeah, I knew _that_ Dean. Uneasy Dean who was clearly awkward as he tried to act like he wasn't completely sickened by the idea a semi possible "girl moment" occurring? Yes, that Dean was quite popular… but somehow that usually worked… But this Dean, comforting Dean who had me pulled into his chest and didn't say anything as he gripped an arm around my shoulders and just held me there? This was a Dean I was not prepared for. This Dean caught me off guard. This Dean just got a wet spot on his shirt from my tears that were squeezed out of my eyes as I breathed deeply and shuddered with the outgoing breathes.

"He's just… being Sam," Dean tried to reason with me.

"Sssmmm bberr mmcted furr," I mumbled into him where his arm was against my face and his chest was squished against my cheek.

He pulled me away from him, holding me at arm's length, and looked down at me questioningly. His face made me laugh and I started to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I don't speak dork, Becca. You're gonna have to repeat that in English," he spoke with a straight face and focused eyes. They were bright though, bright and light, meaning he was happy, but there was an air of concern. I felt relief flood through me.

I lightly punched his chest. "I _said_ Sam never acted like that before…" I sniffed back the rest of my cries.

Dean's finger tapped on my shoulder from where his hand still rested. "Well, it's probably those thongs you got him. Got his whole personality twisted."

I laughed audibly when Sam's head poked from around the corner. "I got the biggest size they had!"

"Hey, come on," Sam hissed waving a hand for us to join him.

I just hung my head as Dean pulled his jacket away from his shirt. "Dude, is this gonna make my shirt shrink?" he indicated to the spot where my tears had darkened the fabric with a thick finger.

I rolled my eyes, wiping the final tears off my cheek. "Yeah, Dean. Just that spot's gonna shrink, making the whole shirt uneven. What a boob," I smiled up at him, a nod coming from my head, which he returned. All right, fine. He can totally va-jay block me if he was gonna be a decent brother. At least for now. Eventually I'm gonna need him to just allow the va-jay some freedom.

We made our way up the hall and around the corner, to where Sam was waiting expectantly. He led the way down the hall, none of us talking, and me completely avoiding his eyes. So I'm not ready to forgive him yet. Bite me. Finally, half way down the hall, a door was open, and a boy was standing in front of the mirror, in yellow shorts, and he was painting his entire body purple. I stared in awe, and a chuckle escaped my lips from where I was standing in front of Sam and Dean as they both kind of smushed together to fit inside the doorway. See, it pays to be normal sized. The boy looked up from his painting and caught my smile in the mirror. I couldn't help but laugh again. His _entire_ body was purple. Even his eye lids, talk about dedication.

"Who are you?" he questioned just staring at the three of us.

"We're your new roommates," Dean smiled and walked past me and into the room. He looked completely startled when the boy held up the can of paint and the brush for Dean to grab.

The guy shrugged, looking at Sam and me and then back to Dean. "Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today."

I felt a small push on my back, and I was suddenly stepping farther into the room. "I'm sure Becca here –" Sam was saying with that accusatory ring in his voice. He clearly was still pissed about the argument. Well, fine, so was I. But, I was also completely shocked that he was still standing here, shoving me towards some guy, like he was trying to prove a point.

Lucky for me, my lovely brother _Dean_ stepped in and put Sam in his place. He slung an arm over my shoulder and shot a thumb back at Sam as he cut him off from continuing his sentence. "He's the artist. Things he can do with a brush."

I sniggered as Sam's face went into complete mortification. Serves him right! Sam slowly took the can and brush while Dean winked down at me and then threw himself into a chair and picked up a magazine. "So… Uh…" I cleared my throat and grabbed the magazine out of his hand, spinning it so that the name was in front of him. "Murph?" he seemed to second guess that was actually the guys name until the Barney look alike perked up. "…Murph. Is it true?"

"What?" Murph looked at us via his reflection while Sam continued to paint his back with a hard face.

"We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week," Dean answered, still absently flipping through the magazine.

Murph's exuberant expression fell. His shoulders shrugged a little while he slightly nodded. "Yeah."

"What happened?" I pressed gently while I sat on the arm of the chair Dean was sitting in. My sitting was short lived however when Dean used his elbow to shove me off of the arm, and then took up the whole thing with his arm.

I scrunched up my face and just moved to the back of the chair, leaning forward on its back. I flicked Dean in the head while Murph answered my question. "They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy."

"Rich, he was with somebody?" Sam was almost done painting Murph's back as he threw the question out there.

"Not just somebody," Murph's excitement was suddenly back. His eyes widened, and the by the smirk on his face, I'm assuming he was super happy to be talking about this all of a sudden. "_Lori Sorensen_."

Lori Sorensen? Damn, I mean, by the look on his face, it seemed like the person he would have been with would be some sort of celebrity. I'd never even heard of a Lori Sorensen. "Who's Lori Sorensen?" I questioned while Dean cleared his throat.

"You missed a spot. Just down there, on the back," Dean used the magazine to point to Murph's back just below where Sam had finished covering the guy's back with purple paint. Sam shot a glare over his shoulder to Dean who I am sure had a smirk on his face to rival my own. Sam continued to reapply paint to the same area as Murph shifted on his feet.

"Lori's a freshman. She's a local. Super hot. And get this; she's a reverend's daughter," he seemed to be struggling to keep the words in as they tumbled out of his mouth. Jeez, what a guy. I rolled my eyes and stood up from the chair while Dean nodded his head.

Sam set the paint and brush back into Murph's hands, a small forced smile on his face. He shot Dean and me another glare.

"Hey, Murph? You think about going up higher on your legs with the paint? I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping you out with that," I indicated to Murph's shorts.

"You think?" he turned to face me, seriously considering my suggestion.

"Oh, yeah! I mean, when you're jumping up and down, 'cause, duh, we're _gonna_ win; but, you don't want white legs showing, do you? That kind of throws off the flow of things…"

Murph looked down at his legs, and shrugged, offering the painting supplies back to Sam. Sam just shook his head. "Sorry, Murph. But, uh, actually, do you know what church the reverend preaches at?"

"Don't tell him unless he paints your legs, Murph. I wouldn't. This guy's a real slime. He'll back out the moment he gets the chance. It's the only way to get him to do what you want," I stated quickly after Sam asked the question, as I stepped around the chair and was now glaring up at Sam while I bit my tongue, my arms crossed over my chest.

Murph tapped the wooden end of the brush against Sam's arm. "You heard her, dude. You finish helping me, I tell you the church."

Sam sighed an extremely deep breath as he snatched the paint can from Murph's hand once more. Good. I hope you hate every minute of covering that college boy's hairy legs.

* * *

"Catch the door," I whispered to my brothers as I stepped into the church. I was a few steps ahead of them as I heard a slam behind me. Amateurs. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ in the church just turned around to look at us, and I quickly slid into the empty back row, trying to pretend I wasn't there. I like attention, yeah sure, I'm gonna assume almost everyone does. But not _this _kind of attention. Dean slid beside me as I slapped my head into my palm. The guy was grinning.

"…as a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings," the reverend had begun to speak and the congregation slowly turned and eventually all eyes were facing him as Sam finally slid in beside us on the bench. "So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children." I watched as a wave of bent heads spread throughout the room. I looked over at Dean and he shrugged to me before eyeing the area where Sam had just jabbed his elbow into Dean's rib. Dean then rolled his eyes and indicated for me to bow my head, too.

I clapped my hands together, and oops, it was a bit _too_ loud, because the old man in front of me turned around and glared at me. I shot him a sheepish smile, and when he looked forward once more, I stuck out my tongue at the back of his head. Glare at me again old man, I'm not afraid to take on a geriatric. Let's go! I didn't know that the chorus of "_Amen_" meant the prayer was over until I heard multiple pews groaning out of relief as everyone stood up and an organ began to play. I just about jumped out of my skin with the first note. Holy crap… Oh Mylanta, can you say crap in a church?! Oh, well, I'd just mentally threatened an old man with a cane, so I'm gonna roll with it. Holy crap, that note was LOUD. Sam was instantly up with the rest of the group and a book was perched in his hands while he looked forward towards the giant cross that hung in the front of the church.

Talk about being out of your element. I'd never gone to church before, how was I supposed to know what to do!? I had to be removed by Dean when the plate came around. Apparently you just put all your money into the thing, and because I didn't, Sam got all upset.

"Becca, put a few dollars in," he whispered while the kind man smiled, sticking his long stick where the plate sat, in front of my nose.

"I don't just _have_ a couple dollars, Sam. My smallest bill is a ten," I held up my hand for the man, signaling that I wasn't going to be contributing.

Sam leaned around Dean, "So throw it in!"

"I'm not just dropping ten dollars in there!" I'd completely forgotten to whisper and the older man from before turned around again. "I worked hard for that ten dollars, and I don't exactly just _have _a steady cash income. I'm not just throwing my money away because I'm in church one time. Why don't _you _just give them ten dollars!?"

"I already put money in the offering," he seethed.

"What do _you_ want?!" I turned to face the old man who wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping.

He shook his head at me. "You're supposed to give back to God," he reprimanded.

"Yeah, well, when God gives me something first, then maybe I will," I hissed. It was then that Dean grabbed my arm and lifted me up out of my chair and walked me out of the door. "Lemme go," I yanked my arm out of his grasp when we'd made it down the stairs and to the grass.

"You wanna calm down? What are you doing?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but I knew he was serious. So much for comforter Dean.

"I've had a rough morning, _forgive_ me for being a little tense," I sneered.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes briefly. "Fine," he stated. There was no emotion behind it. No anger, annoyance, sadness, fatigue, depression… Nothing. The word just kind of floated there in the air, and my eyes widened. I'd completely lost all the steam I had. I had been prepared for a fight, not an agreement. Freaking Dean, going and messing everything up.

I scrunched my eyebrows over my squished eyes. I don't get it. Opening my mouth and holding up a finger, both just kind of fell. "What?" I sort of asked the question but still tried to sound seriously angry.

"You're right."

Holy banana skins. What was happening? "Are you feeling okay?" I put the back of my hand up to Dean's forehead while I stood on my toes to make sure I could see his pupils. Swatting my hand away, he just shot me a "_knock it off_" look. The church doors opened and people began to file out as music sifted through the air, over their heads. Sam was in the mess of the crowd and his towering frame was suddenly near ours. "Service over?" I sighed while looking up at him. Meeting his eyes made me feel exhausted.

He nodded his head sharply. "What the hell was that, Becca," he motioned back to the church

Dean turned to face him. "Come on, Sam. Just let it go."

"Dean, did you see her in there?" Sam turned to face Dean. Whoa. Giant or not, Dean was still big brother number one. Sam squaring off with him like that could be dangerous.

Dean pulled himself up to his full height. He crossed his arms over his chest and tightened his jaw before meeting Sam with the hard look he'd had since we'd been introduced to the guys of the Frat House. People were gathering around on the grass surrounding us, talking about whatever it is people talk about after a service. I don't know, do they actually talk _about_ the service? Like, give it reviews and stuff like people do after movies and concerts? Well, whatever, they weren't focused on us. "Yeah, I did. And I saw you in there, too, and I'm telling you both," Dean's words drew my eyes to his face, which was still turned and focused on Sam, "to knock it off. We're here to solve this case. Not deal with your drama. Got it?"

Biting my lip, I nodded my head, meeting Sam's dark eyes that were suddenly looking at me. By the twitch in his fingers, I could tell he wanted to argue with Dean, tell him off, maybe even punch him. Who knows, it really can escalade quickly with us. Sam bit his tongue, but didn't actually say anything. "Let's just go talk to Lori and get this over with," he strode past us, shouldering me along the way. Whether it was on purpose or not, I looked at Dean with a look that said "_I'm gonna kill him_" before we both followed Sam across the grass.

"Are you Lori?" I heard Sam ask a girl as I appeared beside him, Dean stopped right behind me.

"Yeah," she smiled, sticking out her hand for Sam to shake.

"My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean," Sam nodded over to Dean, who waved at her with a grin. "And that's Becca. She's our sister." I stuck my hand out to shake with her, and she met me with a really kind smile.

"Hi," Dean shot out there, and I rolled my eyes, and shot her a "_just ignore him_" grin when I heard the "_I'm totally into you_" tone in his voice. Oh, Dean.

Sam didn't miss a beat though, he just kept on cruising down Gotta Solve This Case Avenue, and his tone and eyes completely told me he wasn't over everything that'd happened. "We just transferred here to the university."

"I saw you inside," she nodded. Then she turned to me, "And I _heard_ you," she chuckled.

Oh great. So _everyone_ heard me then. I sighed and shuffled my foot. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's been one crazy morning. I'm just... out of my element… I'm sorry. I'll go put ten dollars in the thing right now if you want!" I offered her.

Her cheeks rose as a smile spread over her lips and she held up a hand. "No, no. Don't worry. It's been a little hectic around here. Everyone's had a little bit of a blow up."

I thanked her with a smile. "Lori, we didn't want to bother you. We just heard about what happened and –" I'd started telling her when Dean quickly finished my sentence for me.

"We wanted to say how sorry we were," he assured her.

"I kind of know what you're going through. I, I saw someone… get hurt once. It's something you don't forget," Sam spoke softly. Lori's eyes lowered and she nodded, fully understanding what he was telling her.

Damn it, Sam! You're not supposed to be making me feel all guilty and everything. I'm supposed to be standing here, pretending that I'm not mad at you while you continue to have all this anger spill off of you and onto me. A man appeared behind Lori, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smiling at all of us individually.

"Dad, um, this is Sam and Dean, and their sister, Becca. They're all new students," Lori introduced while Dean offered his hand to the reverend.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon," Dean told him with the straightest face he could. The guy hadn't even been in there long enough to hear the sermon. He just lied to a man of guy upstairs. I'm pretty sure that makes him super doomed.

"Thank you," Reverend Sorensen beamed. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message. Even if they aren't completely willing to show a little thanks with their money," he shot me look.

Did the reverend just freaking judge me? Am I like, going to hell now? Hot damn, I think he might have just completely pulled the Dean look. I actually felt myself shrink to be about three inches tall. "Dad," Lori turned to face the reverend, "Becca's been having a rough time lately. Today was just her breaking point was all," she stood up for me.

This stranger just stood up for me. I'm adopting her. She can take Sam's place. I couldn't help but send a completely thankful smile her way. Man, this girl must be a saint. Dean quickly pulled the reverend aside while I stayed with Sam and this new girl I'd completely decided I loved. She was amazing, and I already felt like I could trust her. "Thanks, Lori. You didn't have to defend me like that. I was wrong, I'm really sorry." She just tilted her head and smiled at me. "But um, do you think you could maybe tell us what the police are saying happened, to your friend, Rich? I hate to bring it up… but we just thought that since Sam had gone through something similar, that maybe it'd be nice for you to talk to someone… Get some thoughts out there and in the open."

She hung her head and brought up guarded eyes. Crap. Now _she_ hated me too. "They don't have a lot to go on. I think they blame _me_ for that," she sighed as she motioned for us to follow her across the church grounds.

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned, looking down at her from where he stood on her other side.

"My story. I was so scared, I guess I was "seeing things"," she seemed to doubt the words that were coming out of her mouth as she stopped moving and gazed at a flower bed in front of her.

"Just because they think you were "seeing things" doesn't mean that it wasn't real, Lori," Sam assured her quietly. She looked up at him and they shared a smile.

Oh man, did I just witness Sam getting his flirt on? I can't handle this. Not after earlier. I turned around and left them there, talking about whatever it was they were talking about, and I slowly made my way over to where Dean was finishing up with the reverend, and coming down the steps of the church, a few pamphlets and papers in his hands. "Check it out," he held up a paper to show me what it said.

There was a group of smiling students, all wrapping arms around one another. The top of the paper read "_ACKNEY, IOWA YOUTH GROUP CHURCH BIBLE CAMP SLEEP AWAY"_. Taking the paper from him, I studied it, and then looked up to see him smirking down at me. "_You're_ gonna go to Bible camp?"

"Think of the possibilities, Becca," he waved his hand out in front of me as he draped an arm over my shoulder. It was like he was a land surveyor, trying to decide how many buildings he could potentially build.

"Dean, you'd do nothing but corrupt the girls at this camp," I stuck my tongue in my cheek and looked up at his proud face.

He squeezed me into his side. "I can't help it if the girls like bad boys."

Slapping the paper to his chest I laughed out a scoff. "You just came from inside a _church_, with the intent of going to a _Bible_ camp, to _sleep_ with all the girls. You are a horrible human being."

"Or innovative."

"Because you came up with the concept of slutty Bible camp kids? Right, because _that's _a new concept."

"I'm not seeing the problem. I vote we go up there after this case. Enroll as camp counselors… Get all the girls to confess and cry on my shoulder, tell them that I can solve all their problems by just –"

I threw my hands over my ears and pulled away from him. "All right, all right, I get it. No more _business_ talk. Lesson learned." I felt the pamphlets in his hand tap against my shoulder as he chuckled and then grabbed my head into his arm, digging his knuckles into my head lightly, before we made our back towards the Impala.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one.**

**First things first, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JENMM31 ! Yay! I told you I'd try and remember, and technically, I did! Let's pretend this is a way cooler birthday present than just some chapter. But regardless, Happy Birthday, and I hope you like it.  
You can all go show her some super awesome birthday love by going over to her page and reading her FABULOUS story. Remember to review and add it. All the cool kids do.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this part of the episode. It took me a bit to write it, and I hope you enjoy its flow. There will be more to come. After homework :(**

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**Disclaimer - on anything and everything you don't remember.**

* * *

I closed the door to the Impala, and rolled down my window while Dean slid into the front seat, still looking at the some of the pamphlets Reverend Sorensen had given him. We waited for Sam to finish up with Lori, neither one of us really rushing him over. I think we'd both completely just had it, and wanted a momentary break. "You're not serious about trying to go to some Bible camp, are you?" I asked as I shrugged off my coat and pulled my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head.

Crushing the papers in his hands before tossing him over his shoulder, and directly for my head, he scoffed. "I still think we should check out that one camp. I don't know, maybe the spirit could move me."

I dodged the incoming paper balls, and collected them to stuff into the plastic bag that normally mingled around my feet. Tying the top to our makeshift garbage can, I rolled my eyes. "Dean, something would most definitely move you. We just both know that it wouldn't be the spirit that did it."

"Shut up," he chuckled. "So what did Lori tell you guys?"

"Well," I pulled my feet out of my shoes, and brought my legs up in front of me, crossing them into a pretzel shape, "I had asked her what the police were saying about Rich's death, to see if anything she had to say differed from what Murph told us, but she said that they don't have too much to go on."

Dean faced me, seeming puzzled for a minute. "She didn't tell them what she saw?"

I shook my head as he rolled down his own window and rested his arm on the back of the seat. "No, I don't think that was it. She said that she thinks that the story she gave them just doesn't give a whole lot of support to what might have actually happened. She threw the line "_seeing things_" out there, just like normal."

"But she wasn't seeing things?"

"I don't know… You read the story; the eyewitness said that the killer was invisible. How can you see something that isn't even there? It doesn't make sense. Either she saw something or she didn't. I don't understand how it could have been both. But, that's what she said." Dean seemed to ponder everything I'd told him as we sat in the warm air that seemed to just hang around us in the car. Yeesh, was Iowa always this humid or was it just today? This is obnoxious. I started to fan myself with one of the papers Dean had given me on our way over the car when he started to drum his fingers on the back of the seat. I eyed his fingers, as he just stared out of the window opposite him. The drumming was picking up in pace, and intensity. It had started out as a song rhythm and now it was just incessant taps. "Dean!" He spun his head to me, surprised, and it seemed like he didn't even realize that I was sitting there with him. "Stop with the fingers."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. He removed his arms and then faced the windshield, leaning forward on the steering wheel, his arms wrapped around the top arc, as he squinted his eyes out towards the crowd that was slowly dropping in numbers. "What the hell is taking Sam so long?" he groaned as he searched the grounds for him.

I leaned back in my seat, puffing out my cheeks. "I'm pretty sure he was getting his flirt on, I mean, I think that's what it was. They definitely had a _moment_."

Dean scoffed happily. "Way to go, Sammy," he encouraged.

Leave it to Dean to be happy when _one_ of his siblings tries to hook up. But hey, we're just swimming with hypocrisies today aren't we? Yep. Please tell me that I am not the only one who has the family that if full of double standards. I don't know if you guys remember, but I'm pretty sure Dean completely locked down anything happening to, around, or pertaining to my lady business. He totally turned me into a eunuch before we stepped foot into that frat house. But if Sam wants to hit on a girl and possibly invade her lady business, well then we should just pop the cork now, hell, gotta get that kid out there, right? I'm seriously over the whole thing. It's like, my mood just couldn't get a chance to lighten before someone completely turned my level back to "mayday, code red". I'm pretty sure I'm not hormonal. This would piss anyone off. Please tell me this would piss you off.

I just stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth and continued to fan myself with the paper while we waited for Sam. He finally emerged and strode his way over to the Impala. Closing the door after he got in, he faced Dean. "All right, Lori said that the police aren't saying a whole lot because of what they're considering a lack of evidence. She said that beca –"

"Becca told me," Dean nodded as he stuck the key into the ignition and turned it, bringing the silence around us to come to a loud roar. The lady walking by jumped in fright, and I felt a smile spread across my lips. Man, today was just not the day for me to get along with old people.

Sam acted like he didn't even hear what Dean had just told him. He blinked, and just pursed his lips at the interruption. "Because she was freaked out so bad that she was seeing things." When he finished what he saying, he looked at Dean expectantly.

Didn't he just hear Dean say that he'd already heard what Lori told us? I mean, I am pretty sure Dean said, "_Becca told me_". I cleaned my ears this morning. I know that I'm not just making this up. Dean caught my eye, an upraised brow on his forehead. "Yeah…" he nodded slowly to Sam, who seemed relieved that Dean had accepted what he'd told him. "All right, so let's go see what we can dig up…"

I settled myself against the door as Dean began to back out of the space. I caught the glare that Sam had shot me when he'd clicked his seat belt in to place, and there was a smug look on his face. It was as though he'd made some sort of point with telling Dean what we'd heard. Is he in the second grade or something, because that's completely childish. So, I of course did what any adult would do. I crossed my ankles and stuck them on the back of the seat in front of me, my toe just an inch from the side of Sam's face. Yep.

"Hey, is this cool?" I questioned innocently as I tapped my toe against Sam's temple. He didn't even respond. I saw his jaw tighten when he clenched his teeth and just hardened the glare he was giving the hood of the car. It's cool, I can do this all day long. Dean's eyes met mine in the rearview and I shot him an uncaring shrug. I mean, I _did_ try, right?

* * *

Dean held the door open for us as we entered the library. Yep, we're freaking doing research, again. Can someone please come stick a gun below my chin? I swear I have never done as much research in my life, as I have done since you and I met. Then again, I really haven't been on this many consecutive hunts. Ever. I usually just got into arguments about it and then eventually got left behind. Shocking, isn't it? I was now completely avoiding Sam, and he wasn't even acknowledging me. I _thought_ we had been cool, after he told me about his dreams, back when we experienced _The Ring_ in Ohio, but ooh, I was wrong. I was instead, just now not talking to him. Something that I'd had two years of experience doing. The fifteen minute ride to the library seemed like it was four years or something. I'm pretty sure I just passed at least two leap years. Yeah, figure that one out.

We were walking down the aisles, and I was leading the way. I don't know _where _I was going, all I know is that Dean was making sure he was completely between Sam and I, and I didn't have a problem with that _at_ all. "So you believe her?" I heard Dean ask as we continued down past the rows, and rows, and rows, and rows of books, oh look a table! Finally some new scenery.

"I do," Sam's voice was quieter than Dean's. It was either because a) he didn't want me to hear him, or b) because we were in a library and he's a total dweeb who follows library etiquette and crap like that. I suddenly had half a mind to speak in an extremely loud voice to absolutely no one in particular. Hell, maybe I'll just scream. I wanted nothing more than to do anything and everything I could to piss him off. Just the sound of his voice was driving me insane right now. Whose idea was it to even bring him on this case? We should have left him back at that café.

"Yeah, I think she's hot, too," Dean answered. Glory halleluiah, I love Dean Winchester. This guy, man, he is great at making me feel instantly better. Well, when he wasn't busy pissing me off that was. Actually, he and I get along pretty well I think… Don't you? We have our moments, but we work past them pretty fast. Total product of the "do not dwell" rule. His comment made me smile, and I couldn't help but push down the urge to piss Sam off.

Until he responded that is. He is such a downer, this kid. He can't just take things as they are. Always gotta kill a mood. "No, man, there's something in her eyes." Yeah, probably some pity for your sorry self. "And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car."

Hold. The. Phone. Lori didn't say any of that while I was over there. I completely forgot to throw my brake lights on as I instantly stopped and turned, causing Dean to plow right into me and practically knock me over. I didn't even bother to focus on that, and I completely forgot that I wasn't actually talking to Sam. I just nudged Dean aside, and looked up to the towering frame of my twin, completely taken back. "Scratching on the roof? Like, of the car? What kind of scratching? Like claws, or just a long shriek, or was it more like nails on a chalk board?" He didn't answer me. He looked over my head with that same stupid clenched jaw. "Damn it, Sam!" Okay, yeah, that was loud. But I don't just _remember_ that I have to have volume control. "Fine, be pissed at me for whatever stupid reason you decided it was necessary for you to be a complete _dick_, but we're trying to solve a case right now. You can't just humor me and work with me here?!" I was fuming.

Freaking. Sam. Winchester. I was pretty sure that my tongue wasn't even attached anymore because I'd been biting it so hard. He didn't even move his eyes from over my head. That's it, I lunged myself forward and Dean caught me. "Knock it off," Dean hissed as he stopped me from beating the crap out of Sam.

"Tell him to stop being such an asshole!" I yelled. The group of students who had been working on their homework stopped and instantly were more focused on the girl struggling against her brother while she tried to kill her other brother. That cheetah probably didn't have anything on me right now.

Dean continued to hold me back from Sam as he looked over his shoulder at him. "You wanna step in here, Sam?" Sam walked around us, completely headed away from Dean and me and down the aisle. I almost grabbed his arm as he passed, but Dean turned us both, forcing me to back into the bookshelf. Pinning my arms to my side so that I couldn't continue to fling them around, he made me look at him. "Why don't you go take a walk, Bec? Calm yourself down."

I pulled myself away from him, and just glared at Sam's back as he headed toward the lady behind the desk. I couldn't even meet Dean's eyes and I spun on my heel and stomped towards the entrance of the library, shoving a guy that was just standing around doing nothing. Clear the road, guy. I do not have the patience for loiterers right now. I ran down the stairs and turned away from the way the Impala was facing. If the Impala was going left, then I'm sure as hell going right. I didn't even really pay attention to where I was going. But all I know is that after I'd crossed over tons of intersections, rounded a few corners, and even crossed over a grassy patch that was a whatever, I'd finally come to a road where up ahead there were houses, and in front of those houses were college students. College students playing Frisbee. Frisbee can definitely get rid of all your frustration. Especially when the Frisbee ends up colliding over and over against a 6'4" tree with legs.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," I choked back my shot of tequila, "you're Lori's roommate?" I slammed the shot glass on the table, and signaled for one of the girls to fill it up again.

The girl next to me nodded as she sucked on her fruit wedge. "Yeah, Taylor. You're the girl from the church, right?"

I rolled my eyes, as I took the offered salt shaker. "Dude, is that what I'm gonna be known as forever?"

I was sitting around the table with Lori's sorority sister people things, and I was loving it. After the Frisbee kids welcomed me with open arms, I had recruited some of the girls from this house in helping me dominate the guys that Dean and Sam were staying with. And we did. Bam, I have already conquered the Frisbee war. Apparently I am on Greek Row. Oh, and I've convinced these chicks to throw a party before I leave. Sign me up for a sorority, 'cause I'm never leaving. We'd watched some stupid show I'd never heard of, but in all honesty, that didn't matter, because I was on the happy side of tipsy just waiting for that last stop into full blown drunk town.

I downed my next shot, quickly beating Taylor and two other girls in the race that we'd had going all night. "So, yo-you're the "ten dollar girl"?" a blonde choked down the wedge she'd been sucking on.

""_Ten dollar girl_"? I have a nickname now? Is that good or bad? Because that kind of just makes me sound like a cheap hooker," I told them all, causing the group of them to laugh. Yes. These are my peeps. Stretching my arms over my head, I arched my stomach forward before relaxing back into the chair, and pulling out my messy bun I'd created when my ponytail kept smacking me in the face during Frisbee. "But seriously, you guys," I threw my elbow on the table and used my splayed out hand to indicate to the entire group, "what do you know about what happened to Rich? It's all anyone is talking about."

One girl swallowed a shot, I think it was one girl… That or her twin and her move at the exact same time, and that's annoying. They really need to stop spinning. "Well," she breathed, leaning forward on the table as she kept a lazy hold on the shot glass, smiling at me, "Lori said that the guy was invisible." It was like she'd started some circle of gossip or something. Instantly people couldn't stop telling me things.

"He was up in the air –"

"There was a scratching –"

"The monster _saved _her –"

"– tried to get her to sleep with him."

"– 9 mile road!"

The words just flew at me, and there were so many voices, and they all started to just pick up in pitch and sort of all formed one giant squeal and cackle baby. I couldn't really understand what was happening or what they were telling me, and sighed out of relief when my pocket started to ring annoyingly. Flipping up the lid, I didn't even look at the name when I spoke. "You've got the ten dollar girl; dollar a minute, ten's the limit," I sang into the mouth piece.

I heard the giggles around me and took my sip as the tequila bottle passed by my seat. The minute the voice came through the ear piece, my mouth formed a smile. "The… Ten dollar... What?" Dean stumbled over what he'd just heard.

"Dean!" I yelled happily as I shoved the bottle to the girl on my right. "What are you doing?!"

There was an immediate lower in volume as the girls around me heard the name Dean. Taylor stole the phone from my hand, threw on the speaker phone, and set it on the center of the table. If I had been _sober_, I would have realized what she had done. Because I _wasn't_ it took me a minute to figure out that Dean's voice was ringing from inside the room, and not just the device that had been against my ear. "Becs, where are you?"

"_Oh my gosh, he sounds so hot_!" I heard a girl whisper.

"Shh!" I stuck a finger to my lips. "He already thinks he's hot, now he's just gonna talk in that "_I want you_" voice," I told them.

I heard the pleased scoff that Dean often had. ""_I want you_" voice? I don't have an "_I want you_" voice," he argued.

"Yeah you do," I nodded my head, thinking he could see it.

Dean spoke quietly to the other person in his room, and I could only assume it was Sam. There was a mumbling and then a deeper, more defensive "_Shut up, Sammy_" suddenly was louder before Dean's voice returned to its normal pitch and was directed back at me. "Where are you?"

"Lori's sorority."

"Where's that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know."

"Yeah…" I was trying to sound like I was sober, but it was just coming out as a person whose words were suddenly all being spoken as though they were questions. You know, high pitched at the end? That's me. "I just kinda _wandered_ when I left you guys... Um, there was a Frisbee, and I met this guy – but don't worry Dean! He didn't try to get past the chastity belt! But um, then there was Frisbee, and then a show, and now I'm here!"

I don't know how I knew this, but I did. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, his arm that didn't have the phone in it was bent, and his palm was on his thigh, sending his elbow into the air. He was sticking a tongue in his cheek and leaning forward slightly, while his brows slowly gathered together in the middle. He was _for sure_ white knuckling the phone. I guarantee his next sound would be a grunt. Oh my god, it was. "Huh… Becca, are you drinking?" It's like I'm friggen psychic when I drink. I should start giving out fortunes and crap. I could make a butt load.

I sucked on the bottle that passed me again. "N-no," I tried to tell him through a mouth full of liquor.

"All right, where are you, I'm coming to get you," he sighed.

"No!" I chorused with other girls from around the table. "Dean, I'm coooooool. Promise. I don't wanna be by Sam anyway."

"Becca, come on."

"Nooo, _you_ come on. Just lemme stay here tonight," I whined like an infant. "Besides, what if they _need_ me here? It'd just be easier if I was already _here_. Know what I mean?"

There was a silence on the line and I almost thought he'd hung up until I heard Sam's muffled voice in the background. I couldn't tell what it said, but I could tell that there was a crash of something after he'd said it. I hope Dean threw something at him. "Fine," Dean grunted, "but if anything happens, you better friggen' call me. And you better have an address."

"Thank you, Dean!" I breathed happily. "Guys, tell Dean "thank you"!"

"Thank you!" they all chorused before giggling.

I brought the tequila bottle to my lips, finishing the last of it – probably more than a few shots worth. I couldn't help but to choke when Dean spoke next. "So," he definitely had that "_I want you_" voice and for sure a smirk on his face. "Any of you go to the Ackney, Iowa Youth Church Group Bible Camp Sleep Away?" I quickly snapped the phone shut, not wanting to hear what would possibly come out of his mouth next. Dangerous territory my friends, _daaaangerous_ territory.

* * *

Flying from the bed as quickly as made sense, I instantly slipped on the area rug next to the bed, and slipped onto the floor, hard. Hard enough to knock the picture on the desk over. I am for sure gonna have a bruise there. But none of that mattered. Someone had screamed, a blood curdling scream, and I needed to move. Standing up as quickly as I could, I had to sit on the bed for a second. Whoa. I grabbed my head and squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Too much tequila. Too, too much tequila. I stumbled my way through the door and bumped right into Lori who was making a mad dash for the stairwell.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," I whispered. Was this hallway this bright last night? Lori was crying, bawling, and she looked absolutely terrified. She was trying to get passed me when I grabbed her arms. It was mainly to support myself from tipping over as the room continued to swirl around us, but she didn't need to know that. "Lori, what…" oh no, not now tummy, hold it in, "whoa… What's wrong? What happened?"

She broke down, completely, and I almost collapsed beneath her weight as she clung onto me and almost dropped us to the floor. Holy Jesus, come on Lori, work with me here. I leaned us against the wall, and tried to get my vision and hangover focused, and to get her to breathe. She was over here gasping like a fish out of water, and I can't get answers if she doesn't use her words.

"Okay, come on, Lori. I can't help you if you don't talk to me. Please try and calm down," I was rubbing her back. My tone was more directed at my stomach that was seriously angry with me and it probably had joined forces with my liver, but I needed to handle this right now. Um, here's the next thing I wasn't comprehending besides Lori's sobs, was the fact that apparently I am the only one freaked out by a scream in the morning at the place. "That's it, come on, tell me why you screamed."

She shuddered in my arms and wiped her tears off her cheek. "It's Tay-tay-taylor," she sobbed.

Taylor? I turned Lori and I so I could see what she was talking about, and looked into the room. There was a puddle of blood that was slowly growing wider, and there was Taylor, staring at me, her neck slit. Aw, hell. In the sorority house? It had been such an awesome place before! "Okay, Lori, can you stand up?" I slowly began to push her off of me. "All right, good, I need you to go downstairs and just sit and relax for a minute. Okay? I will be right down to help you, can you do that?"

"We have, I have, to c-ca-call the pol-lice," she choked, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her and not even twitching towards the doorway.

"No!" That was even too loud for me. I made sure to have her meet my eyes. "Do not call the police. Not yet, okay? Promise me you won't call the police? Just let me try and fix this first. Please, Lori…"

She nodded and I rubbed her arm reassuringly as she pushed past me and made her way down the stairs. Girls started to come out of their rooms, in search of the sobs, and I quickly walked into Lori's room and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the door, unable to draw my eyes from the bloody mess that was Taylor's bed and corpse. Breathing through my mouth, I pulled out my phone and dialed Dean's number.

"Yeah?" he barked the minute he answered.

"Um, you're gonna need to come to the sorority," I told him quietly as I rubbed my temple and finally shut my eyes.

I could hear his voice echoing off of whatever area he was in. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah, one of the girls died… It's bad, Dean. She was Lori's roommate. Lori's totally freaking out right now. I actually gotta get down to her."

I could hear the groan in his throat before he allowed silence to come through the line. He was muttering to someone else and then he was quick with his response to me. "All right, just let me bail Sam out of jail and then we'll be right over."

"Wait, what? Sam's in _jail_?"

"Not now, Becca," he sighed. "We'll be there, don't worry."

Nodding my head I clicked my phone shut and ran a hand through my hair, stopping short. What the hell. My hand gripped in the air, where my hair had been last night. Holy cheese and crackers. I quickly yanked open the closet door next to me and stared into the full length mirror. I ran my fingers from the crown of my head, down through my hair, to where it ended, just at my chest. My waist long hair was missing. It was hacked off, and I was standing her practically bald. What the hell happened last night? Turning around so I could view my back, to see how long my hair actually sat when it was all the way down, I eyed my back pocket. There was a large bulge in the left one. Sticking my long fingers into the pocket, I pulled out a long pony tail of brown hair. Oh Mylanta I allowed someone to scalp me.

Tucking the pony tail back into my pocket – hey, I just learned it was gone, I'm not exactly ready to part with it – I walked out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs. Slowly traipsing down them, as I continually ran my fingers through my lack of hair, I got to the bottom and looked around for Lori. She was completely MIA. I called out her name as I walked around, running my fingers over the bump that was my switch blade in my front pocket as it sat next to my phone, I jumped when she rounded the corner. There was a phone in her hand, and her eyes were puffy.

"I called the police," she said past small sobs. "It was the right thing to do."

Perfect. Well, if Dean couldn't bail Sam out maybe we could get a two for one deal. So my brother is in jail, I just spent the night next to where a girl was murdered, and I had no hair. Could today be worse? Judging from the sirens I heard approaching, yes, yes it could.

* * *

"No, officer, I promise. I was sleeping in bed when I heard Lori scream, so I ran out of the room to see what was wrong, and that's when I saw Taylor," I sighed to the officer who was taking down my statement.

He eyed me over his pen and seemed to try and pick his words very carefully. "And you're a member of this sorority?"

I shook my head, a small smile crossing my lips. "No, sir. I'm just a pledge. Spent the night to see what it was like."

"Huh," he chewed on his tongue, "seems like we've been having a lot of trouble with pledges these last few days." I just shot him an impish smile and shrugged my shoulders. "All right, thank you Miss Gaines." What, you think Dean is the only one who can come up with fake aliases? Ha, think again. I nodded to the officer before he walked away.

"Hey," I stopped him. "Uh, I can get into the room I was in last night, right?"

He nodded his head while tucking his pad into his chest pocket. "Just the room where the death happened is the crime scene, you're free to go into another room," he smiled before walking down the stairs.

Watching as he disappeared, I slowly walked down the hall while some of the other girls were being questioned by other officers. Making sure no one was aware I was even in the hallway, I slipped into the crime scene, and walked out of sight. Last thing I need is some stupid arrest right now. I was walking around Taylor's bed, making a very large circle as I did so, and caught glimpse of the words I'd missed earlier. "_Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?_" and that was written, in blood – oh how cliché, over a giant cross that was surrounded by four smaller crosses. Why do I have the feeling like I have seen that before? I didn't even move when I heard the soft scraping of the window opening in the closet behind me. Obviously, it was going to be Sam and Dean. It's not like they could just walk into the building. Cops were crawling around everywhere. It was hard enough to get someone _out_ of the house with how many questions they'd wanted answered.

There was a thud, and I just rolled my eyes, and then laughed when I heard a second thump that was followed by a groan of pain. "Oh, sorry," I heard Dean tell Sam with a tone that clearly said he wasn't actually sorry and he thought it was actually hilarious that he had crushed him.

"All right, be quiet," Sam growled back.

"Me be quiet? You be quiet!" Dean bit back as I heard them pick themselves up and slowly step into the room. Seriously, I'm related to freaking amateurs. It's pretty miraculous they get anything done.

I turned to face them, a light glare on my face and a finger to my lips. "It's amazing you guys can even sneak into places with how loud you are." I motioned for them to come over to me the minute the coast was clear and they looked up at the wall ahead of me.

"That's right out of the legend," Sam informed us.

"Yeah, that's classic Hook Man all right," Dean tapped his nose. "It's definitely a spirit," he indicated to the smell that was swallowing the room.

I sighed, my eyes landing on Taylor's bed once more. She had been so nice. And I had been right next door, how did I not hear the stupid thing come and get her!? And _how_ did I not see Lori calling the police. I must be losing my touch, or I just never had a touch. Either way, there wasn't one around me. "I've never smelled ozone this strong before, guys, not that I have a lot of experience with it or anything. But this," I dragged my eyes away from the bed and stepped up to the wall. I tapped my finger next to the bloody cross drawing, and faced them. "This looks _super_ familiar to me. I just can't remember where I've ever seen or heard of it. You guys got any idea?" Sam was eyeing the drawing as Dean eyed me. "What?" I bit when he wouldn't stop staring.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I know, I'm bald…" I whined.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two.**

***** I want to send out a big thanks to mari42983 for bringing the viewing situation we had to my attention. I don't know what happened, what is happening, or anything. I'm a little bit devastated you guys couldn't read my chapter the moment it got posted. :( Please, I hope this worked this time and you're reading my message. Crossing my fingers. *****

**Yay! Okay, this was something I definitely wanted to get out to you guys! You have no idea.  
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* * *

Do you know how hard it is to shimmy down a drain pipe? Freaking difficult! That's how hard it is. My "no-slip shoes" are a load of bull crap and I was finding it _extremely_ difficult to keep a grip around the thing as my hands clutched for dear life onto the metal fixture. I was still pretty far up along the side of the wall, but low enough that I could not just easily go and grab onto the ledge that would pull me safely back into Lori's closet. I hate this. Here I am, slipping down a wet drain pipe because my brothers didn't think it would easy for me to walk out of the house with no questions asked. I am freaking charming, God damn it. I can totally master the art of walking out of the crime scene. But no, they always have to have their way, so here I am, using a _very_ sturdy bracket to hold myself up in the air, against the side of a very populated house.

"Jesus, would you hurry up and get down here?" I heard Dean grumble from where he stood directly below me and stared up to my body that was pressed tightly to the pipe.

"Shut up! Not all of us can just spider monkey our way down, you freak of nature," I bit as I slowly moved one foot and then had to instantly stick it back because the groan that came from the movement didn't make me feel like I was super safe right now.

I couldn't necessarily hear the comments Sam was making, because they were still extremely not intended for my ears, but the attitude he had was making its way up the wall and to me, and I was not too thrilled about it. I have enough on my plate and he just keeps scooping tons of more crap on top of it. I slowly started to use my hands and feet to try and move just an inch down the pipe. But, because I am me, no such luck. I slipped, far, and fell _off_ the pipe. And do you think Dean or Sam reached out and caught me before I landed on my back? Um, no, they didn't, because they suck. They both just watched me fall the however many feet it was until I slapped against the ground at Dean's feet. I think something popped, broke, exploded, and imploded when I made contact. Dear baby Jesus, I cannot breathe. I was coughing and struggling to gather a breath as my arms slowly made their way to circle around and hold my chest. I was groaning and beginning to roll onto my side when a sharp jab dug in between two of my ribs. I glared at the steel-toed boot that went back to its previous spot, and then moved my eyes up from Dean's feet to his green eyes. Did that s.o.b. just kick me? And when I'm dying? Who does that!?

"Anything broken?" he was gruff as he looked down at me. I don't know Dean, maybe you could come down here and check a rib or lung or my kidney or something to make sure I'm not a complete invalid right now. I'm about eighty-two percent sure that I am dying, and that is because this whole thing was one-hundred percent your fault. Okay, fifty percent your fault and fifty percent Sam's fault, either way, one-hundred percent _not_ my fault.

I groaned and finally gained enough breath to produce a choked out, uneasy response. "I think I'm dying," I moaned as I laid back down on my back and faced up to where Dean's face was bent over my body.

He seemed to not know whether or not I was actually really hurt, but it didn't really matter because he didn't really appear to care. "Well, unless I need to salt and burn your body in the next five minutes, you need to get your ass up and move. You're holdin' up the case," he told me before shoving his hands in his pockets.

I just continued to lay motionless on the ground, glaring up at him. "Dean, I think I broke like all my ribs, and you're just standing there, not even caring."

"I care!" he argued, seeming almost offended that I had suggested such a lie.

"Then why didn't you catch me!?"

"You didn't fall that far," he said matter-of-factly.

"Far enough that I broke my spine," I emphasized with extreme dramatics, still not moving off the ground.

"_Did _you break your spine?" he sighed, looking down at me.

I lowered my lids. Obviously I hadn't broken my spine. I would have been making a MUCH bigger deal out of this if I had. "No, I didn't break my spine," I grumbled.

"Then get up."

I held up my hand for him grab, and he pulled me up so fast and with such a force that the world around me became a blur with the motion. "You better catch me next time," I ordered to him after I fixed my shirt and wiped the dirt off of me.

"Don't fall next time and it won't be a problem," he retorted as he led me down to where Sam was standing and waiting for us so that we could all walk to the Impala together.

"Don't make me climb down a stupid drain pipe, and then don't make me rush to get down when you _do_ make me climb down one," I argued.

Sam rolled his eyes at the continuing argument between Dean and me, but he can suck it up. Dean and I continued our banter back and forth as we made our way to the Impala. It'd become a little more than just words and now I was trying to avoid the hand that he had raised while attempting to smack the back of my head with it. I'd successfully avoided him and stuck a tongue out at him as I leaned against the car. I ran my fingers through my hair, and instantly frowned while reaching into my pocket and pulling out my lopped off ponytail.

"What is that," Dean indicated to the large section of hair while Sam was digging around in his bag that was in the car for whatever it is he wanted.

"That's my hair… Or was my hair… It's all gone," I was holding the thick section like it was some sacred thing.

Dean snatched it from my hand and eyed it, "You plan on keepin' this?" he shot his eyes to me, expecting an answer.

I shook my head. "No, that's kind of creepy. It's not like it's my first haircut or anything."

Nodding his head, he quickly whipped out his lighter and put the flame to the end of the hair.

"What are you doing!?" I yelled as he dropped the enflamed _thing_ to the ground in front of us.

I had to plug my nose from the smell, but I couldn't help but watch it turn into ash and smoke. I feel like part of me just died. "You said you weren't plannin' on keepin' it," he argued while shoving the lighter back into his pocket and taking a paper from Sam who was leaning on the other side of me on hood of the car.

"But that doesn't mean I wanted you to burn it!" I screeched as the only part that continued to give off flames was the elastic band that had been wrapped around the strands of hair.

"Like I'm gonna have _you_ coming back to haunt me when you die. I can hardly stand you now," Dean joked as he handed me the photo he'd been looking at.

I pursed my lips as I saw that the photo was a match to the symbol I'd found in Lori's room. "The feeling's mutual, _bro_," I huffed. I shook the paper in my hand in an attempt to straighten it before I stared at it with hard eyes, still upset about my hair being forever burned in front of me like some sacrifice to the annoyance that is Dean Winchester. "So what's with this symbol? It was serial killer painted on Lori's wall. Am I supposed to just know what it is because you have it inked out on a paper now?"

"It's the same symbol we found when you were busy drinking last night –" Sam bit.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now? Funny, I would have thought that by how interactive you've been, that you'd be shunning me or something," I interrupted him.

His teeth were clenched as he shifted his stance next to me and adjusted himself on the hood of the Impala. "It seems like it's the spirit of Jacob Karns," he explained. "And it also seems like you guys might have a lot more in common than you think, "Ten dollar girl"."

"And who is Jacob Karns?" I practically threw the paper to Sam as I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye, ignoring his last biting comment that once again tore at my ego. I wasn't going to full on stare at him. After everything we'd gone through yesterday, I wasn't too sure how to take him on at the moment. And my body hurt. And he didn't catch me. And he was still an asshole. And I was still super pissed off at him.

Dean sighed before rattling off the story, clearly bored. Apparently he didn't like the idea of having to inform me of all the research they'd done last night while also having to break off the beginning of yet another Becca – Sam dual. Ah, well, suck it up. "He was a preacher from 1862."

I pushed off the car and walked around the pile of ash that was now giving its last breath of smoke. "Ooh, scary," I breathed as I threw my hands in the air and bent my legs and I stepped around to face them – pretending I was scared.

"Well, he was arrested for murder. He went and killed thirteen prostitutes in the red light district that had showed up in town," he continued, ignoring my comment.

I took in the information. And that includes the fact that Sam may or may not have just called me a prostitute. I was seriously livid right now, so livid that I shocked myself when the words came out icily smooth and not as the strangle I wanted to put around Sam's neck. "And this symbol means that it is for sure Karns?"

"Well, he had a hook for a hand. And his victims then matched the victims' deaths now. Suspended, soaked in their own blood in their beds… And the symbol," Sam held the paper up with an attitude, "was there as well."

I just kind of stood there, dumbfounded. Fine, they knew what they were talking about. Fine, I didn't do the research last night. Fine, I was just getting drunk and having some Becca time, but didn't I deserve it? I think I deserved it. All right, Becca. Time to chill the eff out. Even if I wanted nothing more than to hurt Sam. No, not now. Get this over with. Solve this case, go to sorority party, pretend you don't know Sam. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I was standing there, fists clenched, eyes closed, and breathing deeply. Once I decided I was completely zenned out, I opened my eyes to find two pairs of questioning eyes glued to my face. "I'm listening," I told them. Neither of them moved. Watching someone relax shouldn't be this fascinating. "Okay, knock it off, what do we have to do now? Off the corpse?"

Dean slowly nodded his head, still seeming to question my sanity. "Yeah, find the dude's grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down."

"And do we _know_ where the grave is?"

Sam cleared his throat and held up yet another paper to read off of. "_After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave_," he dropped the paper to his side and shot Dean and me and a look. Of course this guy's grave is unmarked. In some random cemetery. Unmarked.

I just pinched the bridge of my nose as I felt my head ache growing. "Awesome. Perfect. Absolutely super. All right, let's go down the list of things we know. We know, or assume, it's Jacob "the Prostitute Hater" Karnes. We know that he uses that symbol. And we know that he's in some random cemetery with no grave marker. That leaves us nowhere. With no idea as to where he's going to show up next or why, or who he is going to go and slay."

"Well, we could have an idea," Sam's words were laced with venom and I finally snapped my eyes to his.

"All right, that's it you stupid, pitiful excuse for a brother. What the hell did I do to you, huh? What did I possibly do that was _so_ wrong? Because I don't exactly see you going off and railing all over Dean fo –"

So remember that time I was in that sheriff's office and didn't realize that I'd walked right up to his desk and practically hopped over it to get in his face? Well, that time there had been a desk. This time there was not a desk. This time I was standing right up against an unsuspecting Sam who was almost seeming surprised but still looked at me like I was some nasty thing stuck to his shoe. Dean's hand was around my waist though, and pulling me off of Sam, stopping my words immediately. "No!" I fought against Dean who was dragging me away from Sam. "You let me go, RIGHT NOW! Why don't you get in his face? He's the one over here giving me shit for whatever reason!" I yelled as I kicked my feet in the air as Dean dragged me more than far enough away from my twin.

Sam didn't have a restraint though. He was fully capable of walking right up to where I was being held prisoner in Dean's arms and seethe down at my face. "Dean isn't known around this campus as the "Ten Dollar Girl" by every single guy we've come in contact with. _Dean_ doesn't have rumors about him going around after being here for less than three days. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Becca, you're acting like a total _whore_."

The force that flung me forward was no match for Dean's strength. The only part of me that succeeded in moving in any sort of direction was the hand that stopped everything else around us as it put such a force behind it that when it connected with Sam's cheek, his whole face turned. Dean was stunned, but his grip never loosened as my fighting against him stopped. There were hot tears of anger slowly dripping over my lids, and I just clutched onto the arm that was wrapped around my torso, still suspending me in the air. "Don't you _ever_ think you know _anything_, Sam! You know _nothing_ about _anything_, and if you_ ever_, _ever_, make the assumption that I am some kind of _whore_ again, you will, I will, I'll –" I couldn't form a thought. I was so angry that nothing was making sense. All I could hear buzzing in my head was the "_you're acting like a total whore_" that Sam had just spit towards me. "You're just –" I choked back the phrase.

I wanted to scream and pound against him and tell him that he was dumb. That the nickname was because of the church incident that he had stupidly started. That the rumors, which I knew because I was there when they'd started, were not about how I slept with guys, but instead how genuinely well liked I was at this place after putting myself out there and meeting people. They were good rumors, but no, do you think he would have waited around long enough to hear just what it was that my name was wrapped around? No. He just heard guys saying my name with probably some stupid look on their face, and he jumped to the conclusion that I'd done the worst. All of this was _his_ fault.

Fighting against Dean once more, I finally felt my feet touch the asphalt, and I ripped his arm off of my torso. Turning away from them, I wiped my tears off my cheeks with angry motions and started down the street, back towards anywhere away from them. I heard Dean calling after my name and then heard his feet heavily hitting the ground behind me. There was a rough pull on my upper arm, and I did my best to pull away from it, only to fail. I was suddenly facing Dean's chest, refusing to look up. "Get your ass back to the car."

"Screw you," I roared, attempting to pull away once more.

"So what, you're just gonna leave? Run away or something?"

"It's not like Sam hasn't done it before, why can't it be my turn?" I growled.

Dean pulled me forward, and I did my best to not move from my spot. "Because, I'm not letting _you_ go," Dean's voice was extremely rough and angered as he tried tugging me along. I was actually surprised that I was succeeding in putting up a fight.

I finally snapped my hand from his hold after his hand had slipped down from my upper arm to my wrist. "Just, stop!" I yelled, causing him to turn and glare at me. "Just leave me alone, Dean! Until you stop _him_ from doing _this_ to me, I am done. I am just, exhausted, okay? I'm going back to the sorority. Just leave… leave me alone… please," my voice had cracked and had softened in its poisonous tone. I couldn't physically fight him anymore.

"Becca," his voice was soft, but still lightly angered. "Just…" he finally caught my completely red eyes. He didn't have anything to say to me, and I didn't actually have thing to respond with if he had said something to me.

I felt lost, and it sucked. I slowly shook my head, not sure if I was telling myself or Dean "no". "I can't. Not if he is going to be there. Not right now. I just need some distance right now. I… I, no, Dean. No. I am going to go back to the sorority and stay clear of Sam. I'm sorry."

* * *

Laughing, I sipped my drink as the loud music pounded against the walls. The room was so crowded that I wasn't even sure how we had fit this super big, whole length table in to the room, but here I was, standing at the end of it, laughing at something someone had just told me. None of this mattered though. I had two cups left that would be easy to eliminate, while he still had four. I, well, _we_, totally had this. The ball finally "_clicked_" against the table and then soared through the air, directly to my left. Reaching out and catching it, I smirked.

"All right. You want rum, vodka, or whiskey?" I took the bright pink, plastic shot glass from my partner's hand. "Don't give me that face. If you could aim, there'd still be tequila.. What's it gonna be?"

My eyes went wide when he just reached to the side table and pulled the bottle of whiskey to his lips. That swig was _definitely_ more than just a shot. But hey, rich boy brought the hooch, might as well let him be the one to drink it all. Pulling the bottle from his lips, he used the back of his hand to wipe the amber drips off his chin. "Just shoot the damn ball."

"Ooh, someone is _feisty_," I winked to him as I perfected my stance. Lightly tossing the ball into the air, I slightly panicked as it hit the lip of one of the plastic cups. As it circled the rim, I felt my face fall, until the ball tipped into the neighboring cup. Holy crap, that was lucky! I fist bumped a cheer into the air and then slapped my partner's hand in a high-five. She stepped beside me and took over the ball. Her fingers slightly trembled as she relaxed the ball and it sunk straight into the last cup as its neighbor was being emptied in front of us. Holy flying monkeys, Batman! We won. We just won! Again!

Jumping up and squealing with my partner – that's right, one and a half days here and I squeal now. Anyway, after we'd celebrated and had been congratulated by the audience, I turned to face the opposing team, well, he was alone, but whatever. I picked up the four cups in front of me and walked around the table to where booze boy was standing. Setting most on the table, I held one up and offered it to him. "Okay, you know the deal. You finish these, and then take an equal amount of shots."

He hastily grabbed the cup from me. "Yeah, I know, I'm the one that upped the stakes," he teased while pretending to scowl at me.

"Oh, good, then you probably don't need me to remind you about the crisp fifty you owe me?" I grinned as Amber brought over the left over shot glasses and started filling them with various alcohols.

He smirked and finished one of the cups. "I think you hustled me, Becca," he moved onto a second cup while I threw my hand on his shoulder as pursed my lips – trying to act like I had disappointing news for him.

"Now, now, Jake! We both know I didn't hustle you, because you saw me hustle Max and Iggy four games ago."

Jake chuckled and offered Amber and me the last two cups of beer. "Well, who knew you'd be able to kick my ass at Frisbee and beer pong?"

Amber smiled at us as she lined Jake's shots up on the table. "I'm telling you, Jake, this girl's incredible."

"Nah," I waved her off as I sipped from the plastic cup. "I'm actually just a Ninja Turtle."

Jake handed a shot to Amber and me and then brought up his own, waiting for us to clink them. "So, Donatello, you wanna team up and take on someone? Win back my money?"

I threw back my own shot as he asked the question. "Whoa! Donatello? Um, homie, I am for sure Michelangelo. And you gotta run that by Amber. She's been my partner all night."

Jake and I turned to face Amber who was waving a hand in the air as she fought past the taste of her shot. I'm gonna go out on a limb and just guess she got the Jäger. "No," she finally breathed. "I," she coughed, "good. I'm good."

I smiled and turned back to face Jake as I picked up my drink. "Okay. You're on, Jake. Let's let Amber find us a couple of suckers and empty their pockets. Speaking of…" I rubbed my thumb against my index and middle fingers, motioning for him to pay up. I grinned and stuck the bills into my shirt so that they could meet their new friends.

"Well," Jake collected our used cups and stacked them together before dropping them on the floor, "I'm gonna smoke, you in Becca?" Jake asked while pulling on his jacket. There's a trash can like five feet away. What a slob.

I finished my drink and set the cup down, in the trash, making sure he saw. "I'm actually really digging the cleaner air in here. Take an extra drag for me, though. And could you bring me back a water?"

"Sure thing," he nodded while taking a cigarette out of his pack and starting for the front door.

I grabbed new cups out of the sleeve that was pretty much empty and started setting them up on the table while Amber began to crack open fresh beer. Indicating for her to look around the room and find some people Jake and I could play, I listened to the music and allowed it to fill me.

_...my lady lumps (love),  
My hump, my hump, my hump (love),  
My humps they got you,  
She got me spending.  
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me._

Dear God, what the _hell_ do people listen to now?! That's it, they should make me in charge of the songs people are allowed to come out with. Did the lady just say she's gonna get someone "_drunk off my hump"_? That's just so, so, so, so, so wrong. So wrong. I was physically trying not to laugh out loud at the song when I was just finishing up with my last row of cups and began to fill them with the beers that Amber had passed me. I felt a tap on my shoulder as Amber spoke up. "Two hotties just walked in. I call the short one, you in?"

Looking over my shoulder to where she was pointing, I laughed and shook my head. "I think the short one has VD."

He eyebrows shot up beneath her golden bangs. "Okay, so I'll take the tall one."

I shrugged my shoulder as I emptied another can. "That's cool I guess."

"What's wrong with _him_?" she sighed as she walked to the other side of the table and looked at me.

"It's just…" I sighed dramatically as though the news was devastating. "Well, he cries during sex," I rubbed the back of my neck and watched her.

Amber took my empty cans and shot a second glace over to Sam and then nodded her head with a determined look. "I've done worse," she admitted.

I laughed at her and shot the guys a look. Dean was _thrilled_ and already eyeing every girl he could. Sam on the other hand looked like he had been caught off guard. He was slightly slumped over and scanning the crowd with that hopeful "_I wonder if someone else like me is here_" look. I almost felt bad. Until I remembered what'd happened, and then I got over it and focused back on Amber as she stepped into my line of vision.

"You want me to go ask them to play?" she started taking over the act of filling the rest of my cups I'd forgotten about.

Shaking my head, I just winked at her. "I got this. Besides, something tells me they will be _more_ than willing to fork over their money to sweet ole me," I chuckled as I walked past her, my back to Dean and Sam as I neared them.

Facing forward, I collided right into Iggy's side. He caught me before I tripped over my feet. "Becca!" he cheered as he let go of me and stood next to Murph. "What are you doin'?" his words were slurred, but the smile on his face made me laugh.

"Hey, Iggy. I'm just trying to find some new team to play me in beer pong," I explained.

His eyes lit up. "I'll play! Me and Murph! You in, Murph?" Iggy turned and faced a just as slurry Murph who was still a light hue of purple.

Murph seemed to struggle on his drink. "No way! You lost massive amounts of money before! She's too good!" Murph jested.

Iggy shrugged his shoulders. Throwing an arm around me, his face was suddenly near mine. "Sorry, Becca. Murph's a wimp," he breathed while pointing a finger to his purple friend.

"That's okay," I smiled at him. "You probably couldn't handle me wiping the floor with you, again."

"What?!" He threw a hand to his chest and stumbled backwards. "You can't beat me!"

Pulling on his hand so he didn't fall into the crowd around him, I laughed. "You're right, Iggy. You're the best. I don't know what I was talking about."

Iggy threw his hands up in the air and a drunk smile spread over his lips. He was clearly proud of himself. It was hilarious. I dismissed myself from him and started towards Dean and Sam again when Iggy suddenly yelled, "You gonna come marry me yet, Becca? You said yesterday you would!"

I reached closer to Sam and Dean's sides and turned back to Iggy, my hands up around my mouth so that the words would be louder. "And I will, but not tonight, Ig, hit me up next week!" I got a response of an uplifted cup and an Iggy who fell over into Murph. Spinning around, I came face to chest with a very tall, very judgey, very _angry_ twin brother.

Sam's eyes were lowered and pointed down at me. His jaw was tight but there was something in those eyes that told me he felt something; I just didn't know what. But, whatever, I was more focused on Dean, who looked like he was standing in a fully nude strip club where they only served beer, pie, and condoms. I don't know what's creepier. The fact that _that_ is Dean's fantasy or the fact that I _know_ that is Dean's fantasy. Maybe I should stop letting him tell me fascinating information when he is drunk and stumbling into the motel room. God, we share a lot. Then again, happy, drunk Dean makes for a happy Becca. Dean's bright eyes finally found mine. "Dude, this is awesome!" His voice was full of joy. I didn't miss that he eyed the girl that just passed us by.

"I know!" I side stepped around Sam and grabbed Dean's arm with glee. "I love this. Do you know if you can join just a sorority with_out_ going to college?" I think I never want to leave.

Dean ignored my question when Jake reappeared and clapped a hand to my shoulder. "These guys the competition there, Tenner?"

"Tenner?" Dean questioned, more to me than to Jake.

"Yeah, Becca here is the Ten Dollar Girl," Jake wrapped an arm over my shoulder while he unknowingly told all this to my two very large, very quick to jump to conclusions, one being very angry, brothers.

Dean played right into it as though it were some part of the case. But, it's not, so he can stop. "That's right, I have been hearing that. You know why she got that nickname?" Oh great. Lay it on there, Dean. I mean, you're not coming off as a total paranoid freak.

Jake nodded, not even seeming to catch Dean's "_this is my being serious and I'm actually totally professional face_" face. "Yeah, my guy Leon says it's because she –"

"Has a reputation?" Sam cut in. I wrapped my arms across my chest and glared up at him. This guy was totally ruining every good mood I'd had since we'd gotten here. Whose stupid idea was it to bring geek boy to a college sorority party anyway?

Jake didn't miss a beat. "No, man," his tone was less jovial and his grip on me tightened, "it's because she got in some dick's face in church when he tried to get her to drop a tenner into collection. Becca basically told him to go screw himself. She did what we've all wanted to." I could tell just by the way that Jake said it, he was totally trying to show Sam he wasn't afraid. And I couldn't help but have my heart melt a little. And I was finally happy someone else decided Sam was a jerk.

The smirk on my face though… Man I wish I could have seen it right now. Because I could see Dean's surprised but contemplative face before the party seemed to swallow him back into a good mood. Sam's eyes were slits and he seemed speechless. Good. Because he's an idiot. I'm glad Jake told him what's what.

"So you guys in for a round or not?" Jake seemed a little more relaxed after watching the guys.

Sam's words put a frown on all of our faces. "We're actually kind of busy," he stated.

"No worries. Come on, Becca. We'll get Iggy again."

"We need Becca's help," Dean answered before I could.

Jake looked at me. "Aw, come on, you're supposed to help me get my money back," he groaned. I knew that he was slightly serious, but it didn't make me feel any better with the joke he was pushing towards me. He handed me the water bottle he'd brought in.

I sighed and looked up to him, over my shoulder. "Sorry, Jake. I'm really gonna have to help them out. You know how much my ninja skills are necessary for epic events. Here," I reached into my shirt and pulled out the first bill I touched, "have Amber be your partner. This can make up for it."

"Nah, I don't need your money –" Jake was starting to wave me off when Sam scoffed and shifted his stance.

"A _ten_, Becca? You sure this _Ten Dollar Girl_ thing isn't a little more reputation involved? You just collect wads of random cash in your bra now because you ran out of pockets?" He'd tried to snatch at my wrist, but I quickly moved it out of his reach.

"Hey! You gotta problem or something?" Jake was suddenly between Sam and me, and he was holding himself up to his whole height. His whole height didn't even meet Dean's whole height. This guy didn't have a chance.

Sam pulled himself up, too, his fists stuffed in his pockets. "Yeah, I _do_ have a problem." His voice was loud enough that people were starting to watch us.

Dean was pushing Sam back with a firm hand, looking at Jake. "No, there's no problem. Come on, Sammy, let's go."

Jake turned to face me when he decided that Dean had Sam under control. "You don't have to go with them, if you don't want to. And I don't need this," he stuffed the ten dollar bill back into my hand.

Smiling at Jake I eyed the bill in my hand. "I don't need this, Jake. Iggy pretty much gave me all of his tuition already, you can keep it."

He waved me off. "No, it's fine. Iggy can still probably dish out some more money to make up for it anyway."

"He _has_ been drunk since the Frisbee game yesterday," I chuckled looking over at the subject of our conversation. Iggy was trying to dance. And I say _trying_ because he was kind of just twitching and spilling beer all over everyone. And people were cheering him on. I rolled my eyes and looked back to Jake. "Thanks, Jake, it was nice meeting you," I reached forward and wrapped my arms around him. This guy had been _genuine_ friend to me since we'd met, and he basically just stood up to my big brother. He deserved a hug. He was a good person, and that is what I needed right now. I smiled when he hugged me back. Then I stopped smiling when someone's claw wrapped around my arm and pulled me _forcefully_ away from Jake. I spun and saw it was _Sam_'s claw that was wrapped around me. I yanked my hand out of his hold. That's what I want to say happened. What really happened was I yanked, and he didn't let go, and I smacked myself in the face. Smooth move, Exlax… "Don't you touch me! Not after what you said! Let go!" I struggled against his grip, not succeeding.

Jake was instantly gripping Sam's arm. "She said let go of her," he seethed. Jesus, am I about to get Jake killed?

"Oh, so now you have a boyfriend to stand up for you? Is that it _Tenner_? Still don't think that you're some sort of who –"

I don't even know what happened next. Jake was lunging forward, and there was Murph and Iggy, drunkenly yelling from across the room. Amber was at my side, trying to pull me back from the fight that I was trying to get to and stop, while Dean was struggling to pull Jake off of Sam. There were people _everywhere_ and I couldn't believe this was happening. I finally got past Amber as Dean successfully pulled Jake off of Sam and stood between them. Two guys were holding Jake back, and I was ready to tackle Sam myself. "That's enough!" Dean hollered, causing all the commotion to stop. Damn, so not only does he have ruling power over me, but he can completely control everyone around him. I am _so_ going to have to remember that. "Becca, let's go!" Dean yelled at me.

Shoving past everyone, I didn't even argue with Dean's tone. Jake caught my arm, glaring at Sam and judging the fact that I was leaving with them. "You're still gonna go with these assholes?!"

I sighed and nodded to him. "I have to, they're my brothers," I stated as I began following Dean and Sam once more.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chpater Twenty-three.**

**Yay for being sick and quaratined? Maybe.**

**Okay, this is the REAL chapter twenty-three. I know some of you may or may not have received e-mails saying that there was in fact a chapter twenty-three, but that was a mistake on my part. Thank you to sweetkiwi604 for bringing that to my attention. :) Go to her page and check out her stories guys, they're pretty fantastic.**  
**Also, please make sure, that if you have NOT gone and read chapter twenty-two because of the FF site hang up that occurred, that you do read it. I think it's pretty important you read that one before this one, just because of the flow and things that happened in that chapter.**

**Extra thanks to Jenmm31 for helping me out! She was very involved with this chapter. I think you should all go over and read her story, too! Actually, I demand you go do it. Do it.**

**Many high-fives to all of you who review/PM/add this story! You are the nicest people ever and I love reading what you think. I try to PM each of you after you review, but if I missed you, I apologize.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer!**  
**Songs: _Legs_ - ZZ Top  
_You Shook Me All Night Long_ - AC/DC**

* * *

""_You watch Lori while Bec and I go take care of the dude's body_,"" I mocked over and over in my head as I trudged through the graveyard with Dean. I was shining my flashlight on every single headstone we passed, and with each one my scowl deepened. It was my stupid idea to have the party at the sorority. I was having fun before Sam wrecked it all. I wasn't the one who got into a fight with Jake. And I definitely was the only one those kids wanted hanging around after everything had happened. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut, no. Here I am, walking through a graveyard with my brother, who all of a sudden has decided he needs to be keeping a consistent eye on me. The only sound being made was the squish of our feet against the plush grass and the clank of the shovel heads hitting together as Dean kept pace beside me.

I heard Dean sigh heavily from where he was walking next me, and my grip just tightened on my upraised light. This was dumb. This was ridiculous. Frustrating. Irritating. And my legs were cold. Stupid shorts. "You know," Dean started, and I knew he was watching me, looking for some sort of brow lift or something showing that I was totally curious as to what he was going to say next. Well, I am but I am not about to show him I am. "Sam is only looking out for you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, real swell job he's doing, considering the only thing attacking me lately is him."

"That's not what I mean," Dean responded, seeming almost defeated or frustrated.

I just grumbled below my breath. Sam is dumb. Can we both just agree on that and move on? "He's a jerk."

"He doesn't know what happened, Bec, you can't hold that against him," Dean told me as I scanned the headstones at my right.

"Yes I can," I gritted through my clenched teeth. I can too hold this against that over grown bean stalk. "He walked out, Dean. He is the one who _chose_ not know what happened. He is the one who suddenly stopped talking to me after a year. He is the one who was completely missing from my life for two years."

Dean stopped walking and turned to face me, clearing his throat as he did so. Mimicking him automatically as though it was second nature, I realized that I didn't even know why I was doing it. "You're not the only one he walked out on," he retorted with a stern voice and lowered brow.

"I'm the only one he didn't say good bye to and then completely just ignored after keeping in touch for a year," I argued dropping my arm to my side and staring up at Dean. "Or do you not remember?"

_"All right, Sam, they didn't have chicken salad so I just got you tuna fish instead. I'd be careful though before eating it because the stuff looked pretty sketch when I –" I kicked closed the door behind me and walked into the motel room that was thick with tension. Scanning the area around me, I saw that only my dad and Dean were there. Sam was gone and the bathroom door was open and the light was off. He was definitely not in the motel room. "Where's Sam?" I questioned as I set the bag full of sandwiches onto the nearby table._

_My father turned to look at me and his face was twisted in anger. "You're _brother _has dec –"_

"Okay, I don't need to relive the moment. I was there. I know what happened," Dean stopped my reminiscent flash. He met my cold stare and just huffed and dropped the shovels that were balanced on his shoulder. "Look. All I'm saying is that Sam doesn't exactly… understand, get, or know what happened that night. I never told him, okay? I'm not going to tell him. That is on you, Bec. But you gotta cut him some slack. He's just looking out so you don't get hurt by some jackass," Dean's words were sharp, like an order. But I knew what he was saying, and I sorta knew he was totally right, but I wasn't going to admit it. I was right, too. And Dean wasn't focusing on that, he was only focusing on Sam. As usual.

My voice was louder than it probably should have been. For starters, we were here, in this cemetery, about to dig up a body. You don't really want to draw attention to that. Well, _you_ might but I'm not dumb. I know better, not that you're dumb, but you know what I mean. Secondly, Dean wasn't yelling at me. He was very calm with his voice, and he was right. But he's wrong. He can be both. But, there usually isn't a whole lot of sense or point behind yelling at someone who isn't yelling at you. It kind of just ends up making you look like an over reactive jerk face who can't handle anything and then starts an unnecessary fight. Lastly, it was Dean. You don't just snap on Dean. Well, again, _you_ don't, but I do. This time I _am_ the idiot. "He called me a _whore_, Dean! A _whore_! On more than one occasion! And do you know the _worst _part?!" I could feel the lump in my throat. Freaking aye. I am non-stop emotional lately. This is starting to turn me into a total girl. "The part that really gets me, _besides_ the fact that Sam has no problem calling me that after he sees how it completely _wrecks_ me, is that you don't even stop him! You don't even stand up to him and tell him to knock it off and quit being a total _ass_! It's like you don't even care, Dean!"

Dean's face fell but still had those eyes that showed he didn't want to admit he was wrong and guilty. "Cut the crap, Becca, you know I care," his finger was in my face and he was upset, but not only at me, but also with himself.

"Oh yeah, you care? You care so much that you didn't even _fight_ me staying over with a bunch of girls at some random house while there was a killer on the loose. You had no problem telling _me _to leave the library after fighting with Sam, which meant that I got to wander around a new town that none of us really knows, leading me to possibly get into all kinds of horrible dangers, which you know I tend to attract. You didn't even say anything after what happened at the Impala!"

"I told you not to go, and you went anyway!"

"Ooh, big shocker, I told you no. Come on, Dean! You haven't said one God damn thing to Sam about this whole thing, not one. You jumped _all over_ me at the café for a joke, and that was a joke!"

Dean's hand rubbed up and down over his face. I knew he was frustrated but you know what, I. Don't. Care. He needed to know this. I couldn't exactly go to Sam with these problems could I? No, because he's a jackass. "I was _separating _you guys, Bec. I was keeping you from beating the shit out of him."

Well, he's right. I could beat the shit out of Sam. Eh, probably not, but I'd put up a good fight… then again, he'd probably have me pinned in less than ten seconds – but I'd struggle like the best of them. "You could have dragged him away from the fight! You could have made him leave the library, or the party, or any other place where _he_ started the drama! You could have made him separate himself from me, but you didn't – you just let him do it, and you stayed by his side the whole time!"

"He's already left, Becca. At least I know _you_ won't just disappear for almost four years."

We stood there in our stare down, neither of us giving up. "That doesn't make it better. You should still be telling him to knock it off. You're my brother, too, Dean, not just his. You can't just stand there and let it happen." There were tears spilling down my cheeks now, and I couldn't even tell you why they were there. It was sudden and I was angry now that they were there, and that I was showing them to Dean.

"What is with you lately, Becca, huh? I mean you are flippin' out on Sam for everything, you are all over the friggen emotional radar – it's like one minute you're happy and the next you're standing here bawling. I thought you'd be happy to be working with Sam again. And since when do you take everything someone tells you so seriously?"

"It's just a lot, you know," I sobbed, throwing my hands in the air and then dropping them back to my side.

Dean didn't seem to understand. He just shifted his stance and put all his pressure onto one leg as he looked like he was going to yell. But he didn't, he just kind of looked at me and then slowly spoke. "Uh, what… what's a lot?"

My body was shaking, and I know that he was uncomfortable, but I couldn't stop. "All of it! I am freaking nice, all the time, I mean sure, I tease you guys, but that's just us. I didn't even blink when Sam said he liked you more than me, which is completely impossible to understand. But why does he think it is even okay to call me that?! And it's not like he's being a dumbass big brother about it, he's being a total _dumbass_ big brother about it! Do you know what I mean?" I looked up and saw that Dean had no idea what the hell I was talking about. Great. Now I'm not even making any friggen sense! My sobs came out harder and my body shook even more. "And then Dad is nowhere to be found, and it's like he's avoiding us. And your feet smell really bad, all the time. And Sam always just takes the front seat like I don't even have a choice – and I know it's 'cause he's the size of a house, and it really doesn't even bother me, but I would like to be asked. And every time I even smile at someone, you guys are all grr faced and locking me in the chastity belt. And those couches?! I want a bed, too, Dean! And I mean, I'm cold, my legs are freezing, Sam's an ass, my boobs hurt, I'm exhausted, and emotional, my stomach is cramping like a mother, we're going to dig up a body, and the one time I finally start having a good time and making friends, and feeling like I belong somewhere other than in the car with you two goons, Sam ruins every single part of it. I just, I just…" I threw my hands up and covered my face, my light shining into the air and trembling as I moved.

I heard Dean shift in front of me, but he didn't move any closer. I assumed he knew what was wrong now, but he's a total idiot sometimes, so who really knows. That just caused me to cry harder, feeling like I was alone and knowing that I just probably totally wrecked any good relationship we'd created while Sam was gone. I don't know how long it passed that Dean just stood there, awkwardly watching me, but finally he cleared his throat while I continued to cry. "Do, uh… Um, hey do you, do you need something? Like, back at the sorority house or something _girl_ related?"

I shook my head. "Uh kmmff oof eh gmms," I mumbled through my tears and hands.

"Well, I don't know that I have that," I heard him say. I dropped my hands and saw him rubbing the back of his neck, eyeing me with a small smile. He was trying to make this one hundred times less awkward for everyone involved.

"No, _Dean_, I don't need any _girl _related items. I'm good on those," I wiped my cheeks and nose.

Dean straightened out. "Oh, well, good. Then let's go find that body."

"Seriously!? I just tell you all this _crap_ and you just do nothing!? This is what I am talking about! I need your help and you're being completely useless!" Tears were welling up again as I stomped my foot and threw my flashlight at Dean, who dodged it by throwing up a hand and swerving to the side.

He watched the flashlight bounce along the ground and then met me with a shocked and upset expression. Typical Dean face. "What the… Hey! I am not useless!"

"Then do something! Be a big brother and just be there for me!"

"How!?"

"Well you could start with a hug!"

We both just stood there, again, locked in a stare down. Dean's eyes were wide when my suggestion reached his ears, and my eyes were puffy and red and swollen. Neither of us moved and I shook my head, sticking my hands back over my face, sobbing once more. Eff being a girl with two older brothers who are only as smart as the baboons they evolved from. I was completely taken aback and froze when comforter Dean came to the rescue once more. His arms were around me, and the hold was tight. I completely embraced him and squeezed him to me even tighter than that day in the sorority hallway. I soaked his shirt and slowly calmed down, finally feeling all of my anxiety and emotions leak out onto his shirt with my tears. I only pulled away when Dean awkwardly clapped my back. He partially let go as I wiped my tears off my cheeks yet again, and allowed the last few silent ones to slowly drip down past my lower lids. Dean straightened himself out, adjusting his arms in his sleeves and did that total guy "it's cool, nothing happened, and everything is completely normal" sound.

"All right, get off me," he stepped back a few feet and made sure to keep his one hand on my shoulder, holding me away from him at arm's length, "and cut the chick crap. Let's dig up this friggen corpse and get back to that party. Your friend was hot."

Sniffing and nodding my head, I watched him turn and head deeper into the cemetery as I went to go pick up my discarded flashlight. I caught up behind him, no longer crying, but feeling just as wrecked and exhausted. It's a wonder how crying will do that to you. I finally matched his pace, once again shining my light on all of the headstones we passed. The silence wasn't necessarily _awkward_ but it was definitely thick. And I didn't like it. It was one of those moments where _you_ think that something needs to be said but the other person doesn't, so you both just sit there like weirdos.

"Hey… hey, Dean," my voice was quiet. Way quiet, like, just above a whisper quiet. "Um, you know –"

"Shut up," he grumbled next to me as we padded on through the grounds.

I grimaced and put on a focused face. I had to tell him thank you. That only seemed right, and it wasn't fair if I just ended on that stupid hug that he had felt obligated to give me only because I'd made a big deal out of it. He probably didn't even want to give me the hug, and now I probably just ruined everything. "No, Dean, wait," I grabbed his arm and made him look at me. "I… I –"

Dean shook his head, adjusting the shovels on his shoulder. "Becca, if you make this into another chick flick moment, I will bury you in the Hook Man's grave," he threatened.

I watched his stern, total "_don't mess with me_" eyes not blink as they bore into mine, but there was just the smallest trace of a smile on his lips. I nodded my head and allowed a small smile of my own to emerge. At least we were on an understanding… Maybe I didn't completely destroy our friend/sibling relationship that we'd finally created. I guess that could be a good thing. Then again, I was just a total girl in front of Dean. That could haunt me forever – especially if he told Sam. He better not tell Sam.

"So, uh, you think your friend is into me?" He asked out of nowhere after a few moments of silence.

"Jake?" I questioned, not understanding. That's who _I_ had been thinking about just now as we walked.

"Ye – No! The blonde, with the bangs and the," he used his hand to create a large circle in front of his chest. "The one who held you back from the fight."

My brows suddenly shot up in understanding while my lips formed an "o" shape. "Amber! Oh, uh, yeah, she was pretty into you."

Dean's triumphant, flirty guy, "_you want me_" smirk appeared. "You think you can hook that up?" he suggested.

Okay, wow. Did Dean just ask me to pimp him out? I'm pretty sure he just asked me to pimp him out. I am not going to set up a "play" date with him and Amber. I was sharing a room with Amber while at the sorority! It's like having to stay in a motel with him all over again! "I said _was_ into you, Dean. Amber _was_ into you." I shone my flashlight to the headstone right in front of us, and it was absent any sort of markings minus a cross symbol. Looks unmarked to me. I nodded my head towards it, and Dean handed me a shovel.

Sticking his shovel's head into the soft dirt, Dean pulled back and dropped his scoop onto the ground next to the headstone. "So, what? She's not into me anymore?"

I stuck my flashlight into my pocket and worked a few feet away from him, at the foot of where the coffin should be. "Well," I dragged out the word in a tone that told him I was totally to blame. I pierced the ground with my own shovel, and started my own pile next to me.

He looked up at me while continuing to dig and his brows furrowed. "What?"

Avoiding his gaze, I continued to dig and make my discard pile grow. "Um, she sort of thinks you might have VD," I stated, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal.

Dean stopped shoveling and eyed me. "VD? Why does she think I have VD, Becca?" There's that "you better tell me" tone. Damn him.

"I may or may _not_ have told her that you have VD," I explained sheepishly while still continuing to dig and ignore him.

"YOU WHAT!?"

"It was a joke!" I exclaimed finally looking up. "She saw you guys walk in and then wanted for me and her to hook up with you! And that's just _gross_, so I told her you have VD. It was funny at the time."

Dean didn't seem to agree. He stuck a finger out towards me and although the look on his face was anger, the words he said caused me to smile and fight back a laugh. "When it comes to my _business_, there is nothing funny. It's all serious, Becca. If my business isn't happy, no one is happy!"

I lost it. I full blown laughed in his face. It was as I was laughing, trying to keep from doubling over that I received a shovel full of dirt to the face. Spitting out the dirt and wiping it off of me, I just met Dean's narrowed eyes. "All right, all right. If we go back to the party I'll tell Amber that I was kidding about you having VD. But if you guys get all _acquainted _in the room I was using, I will be upset. And if it makes you feel better, I told her Sam cries during sex," I said with finality and a single nod of the head.

"Well, Sam does cry during sex," Dean agreed before he stuck his shovel back into the ground.

"I don't even want to know how you know that," I shook my head as our two holes started to become one giant one.

"Shut up," Dean bit while smacking my shovel head away from his.

There wasn't much more talking as we dug further into the grave. Not that we were upset with each other or because the conversation had been awkward or anything; because, even with what we had been talking about, I didn't feel awkward, and since it wasn't about _my_ business I don't see Dean really finding it awkward either. It was because digging up a grave and having a full blown speech is freaking hard to do. We were both panting and dripping with sweat by the time our shovels scraped onto something. Thank God. I was pretty much wheezing and leaned my shovel against the dirt wall as I nodded to Dean who eyed me. I signaled for him to go ahead and break through the coffin, and then placed my hands on my waist. Dean threw his hand up towards the top of grave we'd dug and then stepped over to me to boost me up. "Oh, nasty, man," he whined as I crawled onto the grass at the surface. "I didn't just get your _girl_ crap on me, did I?"

I rolled onto my back and glared to the sky as I breathed deeply. "Grow… A… Brain… Moron," I huffed between breaths.

"Just get the salt and gas would ya?" he barked right before I heard the cracking of his shovel breaking through the coffin.

Pulling myself up and slowly making my way to Dean's duffel, I dug around for the salt can and then grabbed the small container of lighter fluid. "Hey, I vote," I stopped over at the top of the hole and dropped the salt into Dean's outstretched hand, "that next time," I dropped the gas, "_we_ get to go get our flirt on, and Sam does the dirty work."

Dean nodded his head and turned to face the skeleton at his feet. "Done," he told me. "All right, let's toast this dirty bastard and then go check on the Reverend – see if he's planning to take on anyone else in the area."

"Deal," I breathed as Dean dumped the salt and gas over the bones before lighting it ablaze.

* * *

"We'll meet you there," I heard Dean say into the phone that was against his ear. I was sitting next to him in the Impala as we barreled down the streets towards wherever we were going now, and my head was very similar to a dog's. It wasn't fully hanging out of the window into the cool night air, but it was leaned _towards_ the window, allowing the wind to splash against it. I was still pretty warm after digging up and then refilling the grave. Freaking hate working out. "We gotta go to the hospital," Dean told me as he shifted in his seat to put his phone into his pocket.

I turned to face him, not understanding. "You gotta deadly disease or something that can't be fixed with some whiskey and floss? We don't just _go _to hospitals… I knew it, you inhaled too much gas. All right, I'll do the burning from now on," I sighed.

Dean shot me a look out of the corner of his eyes and just slightly shook his head. Well, I thought I was funny at least. Obviously he doesn't have a good sense of humor. We're gonna have to work on that, aren't we… "Sam's at the hospital –" he stated readjusting his grip on the steering wheel with his opposite hand so that his left arm was resting on the edge of his door.

"That case of douche bag-itis finally get to him?" I quipped.

"Okay, I get it. Sam has crossed the line with the crap he's said to you, and I didn't do anything about it. But I'm doing something about it now. You need to chill out. If you aren't going to tell him what happened, then you aren't allowed to be mad at him for not knowing. Got it? I don't wanna hear anymore of your smart ass remarks while talking to him – at least not while we finish this case. Besides, it's the reverend. He was attacked, and Sam is there with him and Lori."

I looked at Dean from where I sat. Was he serious? _I_ had to watch what _I_ said? Whatever. "Fine," I grumbled in respond to his order. And I guess I feel bad for Lori and her dad, too, but that honestly wasn't the part sticking to my mind right now.

Dean nodded, "Good," he said with finality as he loosened his squeeze on the wheel before leaning over and turning on the radio, allowing the song to pick up right where it had left off from earlier.

_…kinda jet set, try undo her panties.  
Every time she's dancin' she knows what to do._

"Everybody wants to see, see if she can use it. She's so fine, she's all mine, girl, you got it right," I sang along and danced in my seat as Dean continued to speed down the roads. He was watching me skeptically and then a small smile graced his lips. His fingers tapped along to the beat as the music filled the car before the words began up again. "She's got legs, she knows how to use them," I turned to face him, singing practically _to_ him. "She never begs, she knows how to choo – Hey!" I yelled as the music shut off and the cassette went flying into the back seat. "What was that for!?"

I couldn't really tell if he was upset or joking or if it was a mixture of both, so I sat there kind of stumped when he said, "You're way too into that song. I don't need you knowing how to use your legs or choose guys. Grab a different cassette."

Dear God, he's serious. I'm twenty-two. Full grown. Mature…ish. Oh, I can play into this. "Any cassette?"

"Sure," he seemed unsure.

I shrugged and dug into the box at my feet, pulling out a cassette and sticking it into the player. I smiled and then faced him with a grin as the guitar belted out the opening chords. I instantly bobbed my head, my hair flying all around my face as the drums kicked in, and then I started to sing along with this song just as well. "She was a fast machine. She kept her _motor _clean. She was the best damn woman I had ever seen. She had the sightless eyes. Telling me no lies. Knockin' me out with those American thi –"

Dean clicked off the radio and pulled into the hospital parking lot. "You aren't allowed to pick the music anymore."

"But I pick good music!"

"Yeah well," he struggled to find a complaint as we got out of the Impala and started walking into the large building ahead of us.

I had to jog to keep up with him. Why, out of three children, did I get the "you're going to be abnormally short for this family" gene? How does that even work? Why couldn't Sam and Dean be short, too!? There's no way I'd want to be as tall as Sam, uh uh. That's just obscene! Looking like a skyscraper and what not. King Kong would probably be climbing up him with a blonde any day now. We were making our way through the maze of hallways that made up this hospital and then rounded a corner where Dean stopped, growled, and I walked right into him.

"Crap," I heard him mumble.

Looking around him I saw a couple of cops standing there, blocking the hallway. Smirking, I padded him on the arm and nodded to the cops. "Check this out," I told him. I felt him try to grab the back of my shirt and call my name quietly as he attempted to stop me, but I just walked on. There was definitely an extra swish to my step, and my head was held up high. I stepped up to the police officers, flashed a grin, and nodded. "Hey," I winked to the police officer on my left as I grabbed the arm of the one on my right. Just over their shoulders I could see another officer talking to Sam, who caught my gaze. "I just have to go in that room right there, the guy's my uncle," I lied. The officer who I'd winked at tipped his hat and allowed me to pass through. I. Am. Smooth. Turning around and facing Dean after passing the cops, I winked to Dean. I mean, obviously it's because I got some pretty awesome American thighs to go with my legs that I know how to use. Pretty convenient I was wearing shorts, huh?

Stepping up to Sam, I grinned hearing Dean in my background. "No, it's alright, I'm with her. She's my sister. Hey! Sister!" I turned to face Dean, and acted confused.

"You know him?" the officer that was questioning Sam asked me.

Shaking my head, I met the officer's eyes. "No, he just kind of followed me in here an –"

"He's our brother," Sam sighed over my lie to the cop. Seriously. They should have named this guy Buzz Kill Winchester. That's all he is good at.

Dean appeared at our side as the cop left to go back into the room, and I received a very unnecessary smack to the arm. "Thanks," Dean seethed to me before focusing on Sam after re-eyeing me a few times with a scowl and another threat of a hit. "You okay?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"What the hell happened?"

"Hook Man."

"You saw him?" Dean seemed surprised.

I was just struggling to keep up with the conversation occurring between them. How do they go back and forth so fast? I am almost positive that I don't talk that fast. Well, I know for a fact I do and can and I have been told this lots of times. Especially when I am excited or something – then as Dean always says "_Slow the hell down, Bec, you're friggen talkin' like something's gonna kill you_" which he totally exaggerates, so who can ever really believe him anyway. Pssh. Dean.

Sam seemed agitated and was fidgety under our stares. "Damn right! Why didn't you torch the bones?"

It didn't take a genius to realize that Sam was talking yet again, to Dean, and yet again, not to me. Fun fun in the sun sun that is the black cloud over my life today. "We did torch the bones," I sighed, with no attitude. I looked at Dean, making sure he saw that I was doing as he said, and indeed "chilling out". Sam seemed a little confused at my lack of edge, but I moved along. "Salted, gassed, burned, buried, the works on thin crust, man. Are you sure it's the spirit of this Jacob what's-his-dude?"

Stumbling over the lack of argument, Sam seemed almost relieved. "It, uh, it sure as hell looked like him… Uh, oh, and that's not all," he was eyeing me before he shot a look over to Dean. "I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend."

"Well, yeah, the guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself," Dean argued.

"I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman," Sam explained.

Wow, you sure now how to pick them, Sam. The girl with the psycho killer on a string. Bet someone turns that into a movie or something. Hey, if it's you, I want some royalties. After all, this _is _my actual life we're talking about here. But, Lori being crazy emotional about it makes sense. I would be pretty angry, too, if I found out my dad was some home wrecker. Why do I have the sudden feeling like Dean has indeed been a home wrecker on more than one occasion? Holy Macarena I am related to the deadly sin of Lust itself.

"So what?" Dean asked with a shrug. Does he really not understand why Lori would be upset? What a dork. I slapped a hand against the back of Dean's head, and received a glare which I gladly returned.

"So, she's pissed, Dean! Wouldn't you be?" I asked.

"She's upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished," Sam added.

I suddenly realized just how lost I felt with this whole case. They had done all this research, and I didn't help them with it. They knew all the background information and all I knew was the scary story Dean had told me when I was a kid.

_"…and then when the boy turned on the radio, they heard the news lady say "And still on the loose is the escaped man from the local state insane asylum" –"_

_"What's an ahsay... assa... ah-asylum?" I interrupted as I pulled my legs tighter to my chest on the couch cushion. Sam's eyes shot up from where he sat on the floor, and looked at the side of my face._

_Dean rolled his eyes and I saw the white light that was illuminating his face from the flashlight he had underneath his chin, shake with his body's full groan. "It's where the crazy people go."_

_"All of them?"_

_"Yes."_

_"How many?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"But then –"_

_"Stop interrupting, Becca!" Dean yelled over the question I'd been asking. Instantly jumping, I just stuck my mouth against my knees and watched him with my large eyes. "Okay, so, the news lady said that the man who escaped hadn't been found and that people needed to be on the lookout of for him."_

_I heard the sound of Sam's pajamas against the carpet and he was suddenly on his knees and leaned towards Dean, just as into the story as me. "How would they know it was him?"_

_"He had a hook for a hand," Dean answered in a voice that was supposed to be scary._

_"Which one?" I jumped in immediately._

_"His right one."_

_"What happened?" Sam added, me nodding in unison with his question._

_"I don't know!" Dean groaned. "You guys aren't listening! Now stop talking and just let me finish!" Sam and I caught each other's eyes and then both made the imitation of zipping our lips shut. "Good. So anyway, the girl got really scared and asked her boyfriend if they could go home. He tried to tell her everything would be fine, when suddenly a loud scratching noise came from outside the car. The girl got really scared and her boyfriend went out to look and see what happened, but he told her to make sure to lock all the doors and hide on the floor, and not let anyone in unless it was him."_

_I completely forgot that I had zipped my lips and my head shot up. "Just like Daddy!"_

_"Becca!" Sam jumped in, also forgetting he had zipped his lips._

_"Yes, just like Dad, now shut up and listen!"_

_"Ooh, you said shut up!" Sam and I chorused with giggles as Dean just about gave up with the story._

_Dean shifted himself on the couch and fixed the light beneath his face. "STOP TALKING AND LET ME FINISH THE STORY!" Sam and I froze, our eyes both wide and staring at Dean who had just yelled. "Ugh, so the guy goes out of the car and the girl hides on the floor and doesn't hear anything. After a really long time – I don't know how long, Becca," Dean quickly added when he saw my mouth open, "she heard "plop", "plop", "plop". She calls out her boyfriend's name, and nothing. The plops get louder, and faster, and the girl leaves the car, running away back to the highway. She looks back over to the car and sees her boyfriend hanging upside down from a tree, bleeding, and dripping blood onto the roof of the car. Plop, plop, plop."_

_With the last "plop", the door to the motel opened and a dark shadowy figure was standing in the light outside of the door. Sam and I jumped up and screamed, running as quickly as we could into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind us. Diving into the tub we pulled the curtain closed and held each other close, shaking with fear._

I felt like I was out of place as they continued to go over everything they knew. "Okay, so she's conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing for her, huh?" Dean asked.

"Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair," Sam ran down the list of victims and their relations with Lori.

"Remind me not to piss this girl off. But, we burned those bones, whole enchilada, just like Becca said, flat crust with the works. Why didn't that stop him?"

We all pondered the thought. Why didn't that stop him? We did everything right. Dig. Salt. Gas. Burn. Bury. Dance in car. Every step done with perfected detail and skill. "Maybe we missed something?" I chanced looking up at Dean.

"No. You saw me burn everything in that coffin," Dean argued.

He was right, I did see him burn everything in that coffin. There was hardly any coffin left when we got done.

"Did you get the hook?" Sam asked.

"The hook?" I repeated. "Why would we need the hook?"

Sam looked down at me, and his angry eyes were definitely a lot less intense. "Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him."

"So, like the bones –" I began.

"The hook is a source of his power," Dean finished.

"So, if we find the hook –" I started once again.

"We stop the Hook Man," Dean and Sam said at the exact same time before smiling at each other. Why do they do that? It's not cute. Only when I talk with someone is it as adorable as a puppy in a bow. Dean and Sam are not puppy cute, I am puppy cute. They are goblin cute. Wrinkly, old, green, Yoda lookin' goblins.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four.**

**So the final part of this episode has finally arrived. I hope you guys weren't too anxious for it. There are not as MANY original parts, but I hope you all like it just the same. You guys must be praying to the health gods, because if it hadn't been for this stomach flu, you would not have gotten this chapter.**

**Another reason you got this chapter is because of Miss Jenmm31. She has been there to review, preview, talk me through, and suggest the whole way through this episode. So that means from like Chapter Ninteen to Chapter Twenty-four. You guys owe her almost as much as I do. You can all go over to her page and read her stories. And review. And PM her your ideas if you have them. And then add her stuff. Do it. DOOOOO IT NOW.**

**Thank you to the reviewers, PMers, and list adders. You guys are amazing. Can't wait to see what you think of this chapter.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer. (If you want some SUPER detailed information about this, go to Jenmm31's 3rd chapter. It is pretty specific.)  
Songs: _You Shook Me All Night Long_ - AC/DC**

* * *

"Knockin' me out with those American thighs. Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air. She told me to co –" I was whisper singing the lyrics as I stacked, filed, and read my way through the now freshly organized papers that were spread out on the table in front of me.

"You finish that line and I promise you that the chastity belt I gave you will never come off again," Dean murmured as he stood at the end of the table, bent over, hands supporting him as he studied some book.

I rolled my eyes, but stopped the song. Not that I believed him, but still. He's drastic sometimes. "Well, I got nothing," I huffed leaning back in my chair and looked over to Sam who was sitting across from me.

We hadn't spoken after the hospital. And that silence _was_ awkward. I was listening to what Dean had told me, and Sam had no idea what was going on. He probably still thought we were in a fight. And we are. I'm just not removing his throat right now. Things change after this case – just like Dean said. But, between you and me, and if you tell Dean I will hunt you down; 'cause I'm good at that, it's kind of like my job or something; I didn't feel _as_ angry with Sam. Dean did explain it pretty well… Well, he more or less just barked it out there with his big brother superiority and expected me to obey – which because I am Becca, I did. But, Sam also hadn't said anything that could lead to his death within the past however many minutes we'd been around each other. Sam pursed his lips and flipped his page to the side. I'm guessing he hasn't found anything either.

"Here's something, I think," Dean announced. He pointed a thick finger to a book in front of him. "Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. _Karns, Jacob. Personal affects: disposition thereof_..." he started trailing off and tracing his finger under the line of words he'd been reading. He continued to read more to himself than either of us. Don't you hate when people do that? Like, they start to tell you something, and then just don't finish it? What was the point of dragging my attention to you? Do you _need _the reassurance that I remember you're actually standing there? Because, trust me, Dean, we all know you're there. I know you're there, banning me from singing songs. Sam knows you're there, being all big brother-y and watching every move either of us makes. The two girls at the table next to us definitely know you're there, and the one isn't going to have any lower lip left if she keeps chewing on it like that. She is pretty bummed that you don't know she's there though.

"I don't know what that means," I told them honestly. Neither one of them acknowledged my comment. Okay, let's try this again, shall we? "So what _does_ "_disposition thereof_" mean?" Nothing. I tipped my head and eyed Dean through my lashes, sticking my tongue against my teeth as I did so. "Sam, what does "_disposition thereof_" mean?" I lightly tapped the toe of my shoe against his shin. Apparently Dean has gone comatose in his reading and Sam was the next best thing. He probably knew what it meant anyway.

Sam looked up and sighed, crossing his arms and setting his elbows on the table. "Disposition is basically the way a person acts, like, their character or attitude. So, like, saying someone has a happy disposition. Or like, when you say someone has a criminal disposition – it means they have an inclination, or natural tendency, to do something," I nodded my head, showing him that he should continue, and he gave me a confused face. I didn't miss that he had thrown more big words in there, but whatever. One step at a time. "And thereof means as follows… pertaining to the previously mentioned thing… the disposition of Jacob Karns… Seriously, Becca?" He kept lowering his brows and tipping his head closer to me when my expression didn't change. I just sat there, listening, waiting for him to break it down as much as he could.

I nodded at his explanation after allowing it to sink in so that I could figure out what he was saying. I guess that makes sense. "So why couldn't they just say "personality as follows"?" I asked Sam.

"They did."

"No, I'm pretty sure that he read "_disposition thereof_"."

"It means the same thing."

"So?"

Sam sighed and hung his head. Sorry I don't think everyone should have to use brain cells that would otherwise be sleeping. Just say things simply and then everyone is a winner, am I right? I'm right. I could tell by the way he was slowly moving his head back and forth that he was struggling to not say something. It reminded me of those big axes that swing back and forth in the air, ready to slice the poor guy on the table in half. What are those called? Whatever, I felt like his head was the axe, and my ego was the guy on the table. Ready for World War Winchester? I think it's about to go down. I had my game face on when Sam lifted his head and then turned to face Dean with a false cheery smile on it. "Does it mention the hook?" Oh… well… I definitely had not been expecting _that_.

Dean looked up at Sam and had his "_dude, come on, it's me we're talking about_" look. "Yeah, maybe," he shrugged. Maybe? You don't even know? What had you been reading this whole time? Dean continued to drag his finger over the page before coming to a stop and tapping it. ""_Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner's house of worship, St. Barnabas Church_"."

Laymen's terms? The guy died and his crap went to the church. Yeah, I got it. I didn't need Sam turning to face me and saying, "_That _means that –"

"Yeah, I got that one," I huffed. "Is that the church that Reverend Sorensen preaches at?" I looked from Sam, who shrugged, over to Dean who nodded. I saw that being reversed in my mind.

"Yeah," Dean stood up.

Sam straightened up in his chair and put a hand on his leg, a tongue in his cheek. "Where Lori _lives_?" _A_ tongue? Well, _his _tongue. I'm ninety-seven percent sure he only has the one. I mean, he only had one when we were little and he would stick it out at me. And I think he only had one when he stuck it out at me before we left where ever the hell we had been before now. Unless he just grew an extra tongue, I'm gonna say he only has one. Okay, so Sam straightened up in his chair and put a hand on his leg, _his_ tongue in his cheek before asking if that was where Lori lived.

But seriously? Sam, you were JUST FREAKING THERE. Why would either of _us_ know? We were too busy getting our grave digging on. You were the one who was stalking the chick.

Dean fell into the chair next to me, and leaned back, setting his arm on the back of my chair. "Maybe that's why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends' daughters for the past two-hundred years," he suggested.

I laughed as I turned just my head to face him. "So you think that these guys just had some old, rusty, bloody, random hook hanging up above their fireplaces and didn't think to second guess it? I'm pretty sure that someone would have seen it and done something with it."

"Well why don't you check the church records there, genius, since you're so certain," Dean bit while sliding a book in front of me. My papers began to crinkle and slip beneath and above their neighbors while some tipped right off the edge and landed on the floor with a large rustle and fluttering.

Watching the papers with wide eyes, I turned back to face Dean with a dropped jaw. "I just organized those!" Whoa, I think I just gave myself whiplash.

Dean met my face and did that thing that most guys do where they kind of snort, and their head bounces back slightly and then comes forward, and they have those brows that are sorta lowered and wrinkled, and their uplifted corner of their top lip shows that they _clearly_ don't give a flying fighter jet that they just upset you, and that _you_ need to get over it. You know what I mean? No? So it's just me then, huh? Well, whatever, Dean just did that and I felt him lift his hand and then drop it back onto the back of my chair with the same kind of attitude. "So?"

"So, go clean them up!" I bent my arm and laid it on the table, fully turning to face him and lean against said arm. I was trying to lower my brows in the middle like cartoons do when you know that they're angry, and my lips were pursed and then pushed out. Dean looked at me, I looked at him, Sam looked at us, and the girls behind me were definitely watching all three people at my table.

"You look like a constipated duck," Dean said before turning to face Sam as though looking for some kind of agreement.

I growled and rolled my eyes, landing them on Sam who was trying not to laugh. He better not freaking laugh. I'm still on the verge of snapping on him. I'm only not because Dean said I couldn't. "You look like a total di –"

"Watch it," he growled. I swallowed my words and just continued to watch him with my angry cartoon eyebrows. "Pick up your papers, Bec."

I shoved a hand to the mess that was now gathered around the end of the table we were using and then to the pile on the floor that was not only under our table but also the table next to us. "That's not fair! I didn't even do that!"

"You were using them," he stated.

"You dumped them!"

"_You_ were using them." Did this guy just re-Lego me?! I'm pretty sure that this is _exactly _how the Lego argument went all those years ago. Hang on, let's double check…

_"That's not fair!" My legs dropped and my left foot fell to the floor with a thud as my mouth hung open in distress._

_"You dumped them."_

_"Sam played with them, too!"_

_"_You_ dumped them."_

That s.o.b. totally just re-Lego-ed me! I threw myself against the back of my chair, forgetting his arm was there. I'd done it so forcefully that I actually pinched his arm between the wood and my back, and then his arm was quickly withdrawn off the chair and in front of him, being checked for any permanent damage. "I'm not picking them up," I rolled my neck with my words, attitude come around every vowel as I crossed my arms over my chest and my left leg over my right. I was staring at the opposite side of the table, right at the spot where Sam's right elbow met the surface and ignoring the scrapes of Dean's chair's feet against the wooden floor of the library that were erupting from beside me. Uh uh, no. I didn't knock all those papers over, I'm not about to go picking them up. I don't know where Dean gets off thinking he can just tell me that I ha –.

My thoughts were cut short when the right side of my chair tipped up into the air and I landed in a heap onto the ground. Sam was literally choking on a laugh as he shook behind an uplifted paper, and was sucking at it because the paper was shaking right along with him. Dean was now turned in his own chair – which was also turned, his feet up and crossed, perched on the chair I had just been sitting on. He was completely relaxed, arms crossed, his "got you" eyes and slightly "constipated duck" lips on. His one hand lifted mildly into the air and his fingers wiggled a greeting to me. Do you still think he is an awesome older brother? Because I'm starting to think that I should turn him into an _actual_ eunuch. Screw his business. He can be unhappy for the rest of eternity for all I care! I was rolling from my side onto my knees when I heard the giggles coming from the table that the girls were sitting at. Are those bitches laughing at me? Oh. Hell. No. Crawling forward and snatching up the papers from under their table, I turned back to the mess that was my papers that were still scattered around everywhere. I was just about to say something to the girls when something on my top paper caught my eye.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, setting the rest of the papers down on the chair Dean was using for an ottoman. I held the top paper in my one hand and pulled myself up by the back of the chair, and never switched my glance from the parchment. "Listen to this! "_St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged"_." I caught Sam's eyes and shot mine from the word "_reforged_" to Sam's eyes once more.

"They melted it down. Made it into something else," he explained with a small smile. Is he smiling because I found the thing we were looking for, or because he thinks I'm an idiot? Either way he should knock it off.

"So it's probably still back at the church then, like, I don't know, as like, a tin or that money plate thing or whatever?" I asked Dean as he reached forward to take the paper. I held it up and near my head so he couldn't just lean closer to grab it.

Dean was leaning farther forward in his chair, his feet still outstretched on the one I'd previously been on, and he froze. I saw his head tip to the side and his eyes shot through the hole that was created from my arm being bent and my hand be clasped onto my waist. Turning my head over my shoulder, I saw he was looking at the girl with almost no bottom lip. Slowly bringing my head forward, Dean's "_I want you smirk_" was on and his eyes were twinkling in determination as he continued to stare through the gap at my side. Oh, so he thinks he's gonna get lucky?

Well, I guess I can see why he would think that. I mean, the raven haired girl behind me was wearing a very tight sweater. Like, honey, that sweater is black, and so tight, that I can see the teal of your bra coming through. And the amount of makeup she had on? Well, her lips were pinker than bubble gum. Then there was that light they had going on – it was shinier than the one above me that was reflecting off of that brass clasp that was holding onto the binding on the thick, aged, worn out ledger in front of Sam. And I am not _super_ skilled with makeup, but I don't think your face should be a shade off from your neck. It's clear you didn't match or blend or swirl or melt or whatever you do to fix that – you didn't do any of them. Those black lines around your deep chocolate eyes are cute though, especially with that thick part at the corners that you have dragged just a bit farther to pretend you have a Cleopatra thing going on. But hey, that charcoal color you got staining your lid to your eyebrow is cool – if you like to look like you got attacked by Santa the year you were very bad. And dear God, those lashes? Are everyone's lashes the color of old motor oil? And just as plastic? Because, her's are, and they're thick and long, just like that strand of hair that was stuck in between those two lashes. Her hair though, whew, her hair. Big curls, like, soda can big, dropping from her scalp down to her chest that was sticking out towards us, trying to show how big it was, as it sat there in that scoop neck sweater. Didn't anyone ever tell you that black's supposed to slim you down, make you look smaller? 'Cause it's doing that to your chest, and now you look like a thirteen year old girl who just found out her bumps grew. I hope for your benefit they're bigger; because, I know mine are, and I love them. Oh, it's adorable how lucky he thinks he's going to get.

I smirked, and I am guessing by Sam's confused face and his scrunched brows he didn't get what I was about to do. Folding the paper and sticking into the back pocket of my shorts, I nodded to Sam and then to Dean. Walking around the chair Dean had his feet on, I stepped right beside him. Bending over so that my butt was directly in front of the girls, and my face was level with Dean's, and I angled myself just right. Grabbing his chin with my left hand I puckered my lips and pressed them as firmly as I could right against his cheek. Pulling back, I winked at him and then spoke loudly. "All right, well, come on, we gotta get to the clinic and get that medication for you. Don't need your little _problem_ making your _business_ any angrier now do we?" And with that I smiled, used the hand that had been gripping his chin to "tap" his cheek, stood up and walked towards the door of the library. I say "tap" like that because it was hard. And I will probably die for it later. So hey, if I do die, I don't think Sam's a good person to call any more. Call my dad. I hope he answers. I stood at the door, holding it open with my back, allowing the cold night air to rush through and flood the room. "Hey! You wanna fix that VD or not?"

* * *

Sitting in the backseat of the Impala, I pulled the rag away from my elbow and saw the bright red blood was growing fainter as I continued to apply pressure to my deep gash. Wanna learn a lesson in life? Do _not_ tell an entire library of students, including the one in someone's radar, that your older, heavier, more muscled, angry, faster, just all around way more intense big brother has VD. Why? Well, he will probably chase you down, take a flying leap, tackle you against the asphalt that is the road outside of the library, catching your elbow on a chunk of broken ground, and then pin you down, almost breaking your entire body. After that, he will probably keep a knee in your back and have your twin brother hold off the crowd that is slowly forming, and continue to dig your body closer to the center of the earth, while pinning your arms at your sides, until you announce that he actually _doesn't_ have VD. Then he'll make you lie to everyone and say stupid things like, "_he's awesome_" and "_good-looking_" and "_the only man that will really ever love you, because you have the face of a Saint Bernard, naked cat mutant baby_". Oh, and that he is actually the real Batman. Do you see the atrocities that are done to me? If I throw myself up for adoption, will you please save me? I think Dean would adopt me and then hold the fact that he like "owned" me or something over my head. I don't see that ending well.

I pushed the towel back against my wound and grimaced. I watched the church appear ahead of us, and then felt the shift of gears as the Impala slowed and then quietly subdued into silence before Dean and Sam got out. Oh, please, don't anyone help the cripple here. Let me just maneuver my way across the seat and to the door. Finally making out of the back and to the guys, I threw the towel into the trunk as Dean pulled out the duffel and almost dropped the lid of the trunk on to my head. "All right, we can't take any chances. Anything silver goes into the fire," Dean announced as we all started to walk past the car and towards the two buildings.

"I agree. So, Lori's still at the hospital. We'll have to break in," Sam added.

"Alright, take your pick," Dean nodded to Sam.

Sam stared at the buildings, then us. "I'll take the house," he said. Oh sure, take the one where God won't attack you for burning all the stuff in his house. Smooth. And it's not like I was going to go with Sam, because, we all know how well that's been going lately, and Dean had already said that he had to "_keep an eye_" on me. "Okay," Dean agreed. We watched Sam start towards the house when I laughed quietly to myself.

"What?" Dean grunted, throwing the bag over his shoulder and looking down at me.

I smiled and just looked up at him. "Well, I mean, I guess it's for the best that it's him going in there. The first thing you'd do after searching around the house would be to find Lori's room and probably steal her underwear or something. God, you're such a freak, Dean!" I shoved him playfully and turned to head towards the church.

Inspecting my elbow as I walked, I couldn't help but shake my head when I heard Dean yell for Sam to stay out of Lori's underwear drawer. What a dweeb. Making it to the door long before he did, I waited patiently, holding it open with my foot. Dean sidestepped around me and led the way to the middle of the church, and then stopped to turn to face me. "Okay, you take the front of the church. Make sure you check offices, these bench things, everything. If it's silver, grab it. I'm gonna take the back and the rest of the floors. Meet me in the basement and we'll just melt it all. Sound good?"

Nodding my head, I held out my hand for him to slap a shotgun into it. Well, not slap, those are big guns. Even if it is sawed off. And even better? These puppies kick. Guess who is not good with kicking guns? This chick, and I have two thumbs… Oh, I don't think I did that right. Ah, well, next time. Immediately separating myself from Dean, I stuck the shotgun under my arm and walked straight through the doors that lead to some rooms. I don't know whose idea it was to not give _me_ the duffel, but they are not reliable. By the time I'd gone through all of my assigned areas, my arms were over flowing and the jacket I had been wearing now had tied sleeves, things stuffed down the sleeves; and was looking a lot like a hammock as it cradled everything. Pssh, and Dean said "_genius_" earlier like it was an insult. I'm totally smart. It _was_ difficult getting down the stairs with all that stuff, though; things were dropping all over, clanging around with metallic clings as they beat me to the bottom stair. Finally making down there myself, I was met with Dean who had an armful of the things I'd dropped. His left brow was raised, and I sent him a squished face that told him I didn't know what he really wanted me to say. The crap fell. Gravity attacks us all, Dean. Following him to where the fire was blazing, I set my jacket down at my feet and helped him to throw things into the flames.

The main part of my jacket was bare and I was working on one of my sleeves when I threw in a silver cross I'd taken off of the Reverend's office door. Holding the cross up and looking at it, I sighed and then tossed it in. "I feel like a sinner," I sighed digging into my sleeves for some more silver items.

"You should," Dean grunted as he pulled more and more things out of his bag. How much silver did this church have? I shot a glare at the top of his spiky head and flicked down a silver coin so that it plinked off of his head and into the bag in front of him. He rubbed the spot on his head and looked up at me with a hard look. Shrugging nonchalantly, I dropped a small silver, is this a shot glass? Well, it's about to be, what was that word? Reforged? Sure. Reforged. I felt a hard pressure at the back of my knees, and I was instantly falling, about to land in the fire. A quick tug on the back of my shirt sent me onto my back, splayed out on the concrete floor next to Dean's bag.

"When was the last time I told you you were a really bad big brother?" I groaned as I supported the upper half of my body with my bent elbows.

"You told the girl I had VD," he growled looking down at me as Sam came down the stairs.

I sat up completely rolled my eyes, pulling my jacket closer, I began to pull things out of the sleeves once more. "You made me tell people I was a mutant animal baby. I think we're even," I responded as I shook the one sleeve and everything fell into my lap.

Sam dropped the bag beside Dean and me, and began emptying it immediately. "I got everything that looked silver," he huffed, pretty much shoveling it all into the heat that was burning the missed spot of hair on my knee. I hate shaving knees, they're the worst.

Standing up after my jacket was emptied out, I threw the jacket back on when we heard a set of footsteps creak from the floor above us. Who the hell breaks into a church at night?! Oh, yeah, well, I mean, we're kind of saving people's lives. I think that counts for something. There were hands suddenly on my back, pushing me forward, and there was a shotgun in my hand once again as Dean's thundering voice was in my ear telling me to move.

Dashing up the stairs, I had my gun raised, along with Dean, and we all froze. It's freaking Lori. Lori broke into the church and was now just sitting there, crying. I dropped my gun and looked at the ceiling of the church. Turning on my heel, I headed back towards the basement to finish throwing things into the fire. It didn't take long for Dean to appear right behind me, helping me to finish putting everything in. I was just tipping his bag over and shaking it, making sure everything was out of it as he threw the last handful of silverware into the roaring heat. "I think that's everything," I told him, sticking my gun into the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Good, let's get out of here, this place will probably burst into flame around us any second," Dean responded. "Just gotta grab Sam and go."

We were slowly stepping up the stairs when I thought I'd heard something. "Dean, you hear that?" I stopped leading him and stuck a hand on his chest, while pointing to the area of the church we had yet to come in contact with. There it was again. It was a sharp scrape, and it was getting louder. Then I heard the basement door open and then slam shut, followed by a crash and wood falling to the floor.

Dean shoved past me, his gun cocked, and moving as quickly as he could. I was right on his feet as I yanked my gun out of the bag. We made it to the main part of the church, but there was no one there. Glass shattered in the distance, and Dean and I moved as fast as we could to the sound. Then there was a masculine scream, and all I could think was that Sam had just been hurt, and who ever did it needed to freaking die. No one is allowed to hurt Sam, douche bag or not, only I can kill him. I barreled past Dean, determined to get to Sam. Dean and I made it to the area Sam and Lori were in when I saw Sam fly backwards into a wall, right past Dean and me. Shouting out Sam's name, my gun was instantly up and tucked against my shoulder crook, aiming for the evil monster that was standing over a cowering Lori.

"Sam, drop!" Dean yelled, and Sam instantly complied. Pulling the trigger the second I saw Sam's hair move, showing he was moving, my body twisted back, and I fell into the door beside me as the Hook Man faded away into a dusty smoke of freaking not dead monster.

Sam was by Lori, who looked beyond lost, scared, confused, and like she wanted to cry, and Dean was helping me up from where I'd slid to the floor. "I thought we got all the silver," Sam panted.

"So did I," Dean added.

Both of their eyes shot over to my face and I widened my eyes while loading my shotgun with some new salt rounds. "Hey, I grabbed things that were even silver-colored, okay? There is no silver that I missed in this church," I defended as I rubbed at my shoulder.

"Then why is he still here?" Sam asked angrily, still looking at us.

"Well, maybe we missed something!" Dean answered.

No, we didn't because I grabbed it all. I rolled my eyes as they searched the room, and I found myself looking with them. Why am I second guessing this? I grabbed everything! I pulled drawers open, only to immediately shut them after knowing that they were empty. I had just moved on to a lower drawer as I heard Sam talking to Lori. "Lori, where did you get that chain?"

Chain? What chain? I turned, my hair flying around my face as I moved, and saw the delicate cross hanging from around her neck. "My father gave it to me," she answered, not understanding.

"Where'd your _dad_ get it?" Dean pressed, eager just like the rest of us, for answers.

"He said it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when I star –"

"IS IT SILVER?" I yelled, cutting her off. My eyes were wide and I'm sure wild. This thing is going around because this chick is disliking people's actions and she's going to give me the whole history of the thing? Unnecessary.

Lori turned from Sam to eye me, angrily. Suck it up, Lori, I do not have time to have you weep on my shoulder right now. "YES!" Sam quickly ripped the chain off Lori's neck as a long scratching sound erupted from somewhere not directly in my eyesight.

Anxiously and frantically looking everywhere I could, Dean's voice brought me to what he saw when he shouted out Sam's name. Dean threw his gun to Sam as Sam threw the necklace to Dean. Dean sped from the room as I raised my own gun and aimed it towards where I assumed the invisible scratcher would be in about three… two… one… that crap is really starting to wreck my shoulder. Falling on to the top of the dresser, I had one nasty look on my face as I shook my head and reloaded my gun once more. Sam had his own gun up, and I could see he was struggling to load it with his arm that, I hadn't noticed until now, was bleeding. The Hook Man was suddenly in front of me, his hook raised, and I saw him focusing on where Sam and Lori were cowering below him. He didn't even seem to notice I was behind him. Sam's gun went flying to the side, and I was pissed. Who the hell did this monster think he was? Hurting my asshole brother and then disarming him right in front of me? Uh, no. Just as the Hook Man towered over Sam and Lori, I yelled out a very loud "_Hey_" and watched with a smirk as he faced me and I pulled myself off the top of the dresser and stabilized myself, aiming for his chest. Biting my tongue was probably a really bad idea, but I did it as I pulled the trigger, sending my salt rounds into the mass that faded away as the hook melted down into a puddle on the floor. My body slammed back, for the third time and I allowed myself to give into the force and drop against the dresser and then to the ground. Dean was there, moments later, breathing heavily as he looked from me to Sam and back. Dropping my gun to the floor beside me, I ran my finger along the area of my tongue that had been between my teeth. Pulling it back, I found a bright red ribbon running down the side of my long finger. Spitting the blood in my mouth out to my side, I held up my hand, and yes, it was the one I'd just stuck in my mouth, into the air, and smiled with a relieved sigh as Dean smacked his rough palm against it in a high-five before helping me stand from where I'd fallen with my last shot.

* * *

"And you're sure you're okay?" Jake blew the smoke out with his words as he, Amber, and I all stood around outside of the church.

Smiling, I nodded, while waving a hand in my face to keep the smoke from going up my nose. And that was a fail. "Yeah, asshats or not, they're my brothers," I sighed as I moved my hand from the air in front of my face to run it through my hair. "But, thank you for being so concerned, that's really nice of you. And you're sure you're cool with running Lori to go by her dad?" I looked over to see Sam sitting with Lori at the ambulance.

My shoulder had already been checked out, and apparently my argument that something had been broken or dislocated was not holding up. They paramedic said it was only bruised, I said I wanted to know where she got her credentials, she squeezed extra hard on the little ball thing that made the cuff around my arm cut off my circulation. Then I threw her box of gauze on the ground, ten feet away from her. Needless to say, I am not the paramedics' main focus. After dealing with that dumb lady, I'd been pulled to the side by an officer, and was not able to get away as easily. There was like, twenty minutes of pointless questions, me sort of telling the truth, and then threats of arrest. I'm starting to think I may or may not have problems with authority figures. Ah well, we'll work on that later.

Amber was smiling and pulled her sweat shirt tighter around her. "No worries, Becca, we can take her," she shot me a kind smile, and I saw her eyes travel over my shoulder and to the area behind me.

Turning to face what she was looking at, I saw Dean leaning against the Impala, talking to an officer. Facing Amber and Jake once more, I smiled. "So, uh, thank you. Both. It's really nice of you to do that. I wish I could stay though… I had a lot of fun. Really." Exchanging hugs with each of them, I started back to the Impala, only to stop and face Amber. "Oh, and uh, I lied before… About Sam and Dean," I told her.

"Well, yeah, I mean, they're your brothers," she chuckled.

"Yeah, but I meant about Dean having VD. He doesn't actually have VD, I thought it'd be funny."

"Oh, we heard about you making up the VD thing," Jake informed me as he dropped his cigarette to the ground and stepped it into the ground underneath his feet. "But, I don't think you look like a Saint Bernard, naked cat, mutant baby…" he smiled.

I stood there dumbfounded. Great. Now I'm not the ten dollar girl. Now I am the Saint Bernard, naked cat, mutant baby, perfect. Waving a goodbye to them both I walked over to the Impala, and slid in behind Dean. "I told Amber you don't have VD," I sighed as I buckled my seatbelt and slipped my shoes off.

Dean quickly adjusted the rear view mirror and I assumed it was to get a better view of Amber in it. "She still wanna hook up?"

"Um, I didn't ask, but forget it. I just wanna get out of this town."

"I thought you wanted to stay a part of the sorority, Becs," he teased as he fixed the mirror and then adjusted himself in the seat.

I shook my head with a small smile. "I did, but not anymore. My new nickname is '"Saint Bernard, naked cat, mutant baby". I could pull off the tenner thing, but that's gonna be harder."

I heard Dean emit a happy scoff and wipe his face with his hand as Sam walked past the front of the Impala and then got in beside Dean. "We could stay," Dean told Sam with a solemn voice.

"Negative. We cannot stay. We need to just go, go far, go wide, go long, go hard, go big, go fast, go, just go," I argued.

Sam shook his head in a disappointed fashion, not answering Dean or me. Dean gave an exhausted sigh before starting the car and then turning on the radio, the cassette picking up right where it had left off from the ride to the hospital.

_…ighs. Taking more than her share  
Had me fighting for air  
She told me to come but I was already there  
'Cause the walls start shaking  
The earth was quaking…_

I didn't even sing along with it this time. Everyone except me seemed to be in a bummy mood, and that was just depressing. Checking my elbow and then my shoulder I sighed, and stared through the window. Before Dean shifted the car into drive, he turned around in his seat and caught my eyes. "Hey, you wanna sit in front for a while?" he offered.

Sam quickly shot his head to the two of us, seeming shocked as I just shook my head in a negative answer. "Thanks though," I smiled up at him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-five.**

**Okay, time for a let's be honest moment. I heard Pauly and Vinny saying that, did you? Anyway. I wanted to get this part to you guys because I was super hardcore paranoid about this one part. I worked pretty hard on it, and I wanted it to be perfect. So much so, that the end may or may not stink because I kind of ran out of steam when I got to it. But I was too far gone to give up before it got posted. Now, although not all of the beans have been 0spilled in this chapter, (because there are a LOT more beans to come) you will get some new and hopefully shocking/surprising/pleasing information to tuck away in your Becca binder of knowledge.**

**Extra love to the reviewers/PMers/adders. You guys totally make me want to post these as fast as possible, and I love seeing a new review/PM/add, so keep them coming!**

**Thanks to Jenmm31, who I should totally just let rule this story because she helps out so much. She totally helped with my little flashback, and you can all thank her by going over and reading/reviewing/adding her story!**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Smoke swirled around our bodies as the deep, gold light overhead only lit up the tables below them. Water was slipping down the sides of our glasses and creating rings on the waxed surface of the green felted playing tables while the thick Oklahoma air swarmed in through the doors and windows that all sat open, hoping to somehow allow a breeze to come through. Except, there was no breeze, so all that was happening was _more_ thick, stale, dry air was entering in and creating a funk that I didn't enjoy. I tightened my grip on my pool stick and leaned it, and me, a little more to the right, and against the arm of the guy Dean was playing. The rough fabric of his really worn out, red and black flannel shirt felt like cardboard against my bare arm. I wanted to ask him how he could _possibly_ be wearing that flannel, even if it was unbuttoned and open, showing the white tank underneath it. Flannels are flannel for a reason. Don't you usually wear a flannel to keep yourself warm? Was this guy cold? How could he be cold, it was like we were standing on a volcano – that's how hot it was right now. I nudged him with my elbow as Dean bent forward and sent the cue ball flying against another one of his striped victims. "You really think we can beat him? He seemed to be pretty good, even better than I thought he would be," I whispered up to the man next to me. My ponytail brushed the tops of my shoulders as it swung, that's how much I'd gotten cut off and then had to have fixed after that night at the sorority. I didn't really know that having my hair "fixed" meant that more would be getting cut off. Imagine my surprise.

The deep blue eyes of my pool "partner" were looking down at the top of my head, so he didn't notice the look Dean was giving him as he stepped around the corner of the pool table and came to stand in front of us, and bent over the side, aiming for his next shot. I saw it though, and I always see it, and it always looks the same. Dean looked like I just boosted his ego with my comment, and he had that "I am _awesome_" glint in his eyes. "The game just started, sweetheart, we still got time," he smiled.

Except the game hadn't just started. It started like, twenty-five minutes ago and was taking forever. Dean was doing great, but so was I, and that was definitely the reason we were prolonging this. Missing his next shot, Dean grabbed his bottle of beer off of a table that was behind us, and brought the mouth of it to his lips. Walking over to where the cue ball now sat, I bent over the table myself, winking up at my brother. "I suppose you're right. Good looks almost never get paired with brains do they?" I asked flannel guy.

"Darlin', you're the exception," he told me as he stepped behind me at the table. "Okay, you ready to try this again?" Dean was sitting on one of the stools at the table, intently watching every move the guy made with me. Super big brother mode. I nodded my head and waited. The arms of the guy were suddenly around me and his one rough hand covered over mine. Our bodies were pressed tightly together, and I allowed myself to lightly back up into him, and then _subtly_ grinded against him. Subtle to everyone except me, flannel guy, and Dean. Dean sees everything when we do this. My bare legs felt this scraping of his jeans as his knee stuck between my two. I looked up and hardly had to turn my head at all as I smiled to meet flannel guy's face.

"Walk me through it one more time, okay?" I purred, pressing my back tight to his chest.

Mission get the dopey grin is a success. He bent us closer to the table and I could feel his breath not only on my neck but also in my ear. "Remember," he whispered as he shifted the stick in my hand and then intertwined our fingers together, "you should use this hand," he squeezed my left hand lightly, "to make a bridge. The bridge will help you keep your stick straight – allowing a _smooth_, _even_, stroke." I shuddered at the way he said the words. Dude, this guy totally meant way more than just playing pool right now. Shooting my eyes and meeting Dean's face, I know that Dean couldn't hear what the guy was telling me, but I wanted him to be aware – just in case I needed him to lion leap across the table. It wouldn't have been the first time. I nodded my head slightly, showing flannel guy that I was listening to him, and then my eyes met Dean's once again, silently trying to get him to use his ears a bit more. Flannel guy's voice gained a little more grit and seductiveness when he started speaking, bringing my attention from Dean back to the instructions he thought he was teaching me. "Then you can use this hand, to guide the stick; get it to where you want it to go," he tightened his grip around my hand and the stick. "And you should stand," I felt him scooting his foot against the toes of my shoes, slowly moving my feet back, "so that you are looking _straight down_ the stick's _shaft_ so that you can look the cue ball in the face." I bit my bottom lip, and turned to look at flannel guy, but it was awkward to do because his face was practically touching mine.

"So, like this?" I pulled back on the stick slightly – a small signal that I was ready to take my shot, alone, and his hand left mine, as his whole body stood up and moved away from me. Looking down the shaft, and then slowly looking up to Dean's face, I saw him slightly nod as he sipped on his beer some more. Just as I went to shove the stick forward, I dropped my bridge and the stick shot to the side of the cue ball, sending it to the left and closer to the ball Dean needed. It tapped our solid green one and rolled it so that the number six was no longer showing. Oops? Standing up and throwing my hand on my hip, I turned to face flannel guy with a pout. "I'm really sorry! What did I do wrong?"

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, while holding his ball cap in it. He shot me a shy grin and then put his cap back on before eyeing my out stretched stick. "You dropped your bridge," he sighed with a smile. Oh, those country boys, they melt my heart just a little bit more than them college guys. Sticking his hands in his front pockets he shrugged. "That's all right though, you can make it up to me by buying the next round."

"Deal," I handed over my stick and sauntered over to the bar while Dean got ready to finish the game off. Leaning against the wooden rail, I hailed over the bartender and told him I needed two cold bottles. I drummed my fingers on the sticky surface, waiting, when I felt a pressure on part of my back, and a hand caressed my side before fingers gripped lightly to my waist, pulling me closer to the person beside me. "Too afraid to watch him win?" I looked up to see flannel guy leaning not only on me, but also on the bar, watching me with very kind and intent eyes. I felt almost bad to be doing this to him. Straightening himself out, he thanked the bartender and dropped a twenty on the top of the bar. "I thought I was paying?" I wrapped my hands around the damp side of the bottle before bringing its lip to my own.

Flannel guy set his bottle on the bar and stood up straight in front of me. We looked over to the table where Dean was just lining up his last striped ball, that I knew he would sink. That shot was too easy for him to miss, and from the nod he'd given me earlier, he wanted this game wrapped up – and then we would have enough to go. We'd played long enough with this opponent, and this would just bring the cash flow to its cap for now. "I really didn't see us recovering," he chuckled turning back to face me as Dean sunk the ball I knew he would, and then re-aligned to hit the eight ball. Neither of us paid any attention to Dean's final shot, but instead focused on each other.

"I did tell you I wasn't very good," I reiterated from earlier in the day. And I did tell him I wasn't good, and he did say that it would be no problem and that he was willing to have me on his team. It's not my fault that Dean played a very convincing "_oh no, you are not gonna be on my team_" to my "_but come on, that's not very nice_" and full lip pout. Some people just can't handle a sad, good-looking girl. This guy just happened to be that person. Not my fault.

"Yeah, but you didn't say you were _that_ bad," he laughed, and then I laughed. This was way past the pool game, hustle flirt that I had been a part of a few moments ago.

"Well, I am sorry," I apologized with a large grin while I sipped some more on my beer.

Setting his beer beside me after he drank from it, his face went from joking and having fun to a little more flirty and I could see his focus switching from the game, to me. His fingers were slowly and lightly running their tips down my arm to my elbow, and then somehow shifted to my side. Even through my camisole shirt I could feel the heat of his skin. His words were becoming fuzzy and my face was growing hot – but it wasn't from the comments he was shooting my way. No, it was from the memory that was starting to make itself a little more vivid. The minute his rough finger tips touched the area of skin, just along the edge where my shorts started and my shirt stopped, it was like I was back in that bar from two years ago. The smells around me changed to from smoke and sweat and hot air, to deep fry oil from a behind the bar kitchen that didn't even exist. The beer I'd just swallowed was no longer the taste in my mouth, it had been replaced by bourbon and fear.

_…with a hand pull, my back was suddenly pressed against his chest. The calluses on his fingers were so rough as his hand skimmed along the soft skin of my stomach, as they ran underneath the thin fabric of my tank. I tried to push his hand away while his other arm snaked around me and pulled us closer together – if that was even possible._

_Cackles of laughter came from his group of friends around us and his tongue traced lightly as it trailed from my jaw bone up my cheek and ended right below my ear. Scratching at his arm seemed to be useless, just like my effort of trying to drop out of his hold and become a puddle on the ground at our feet._

_"Let me go, I don't want to do this anymore," I begged with a slurred voice that held all the shakes I was trying to hold inside while his grip just tightened around me._

_A soft, sadistic laugh played in my ear and the fingers under my shirt began to move down until one hooked itself between the waist of my denim jeans and my hip bone. Then there was another finger, and then another. Pulling away was the only thing I could think to do, but his hands moved with my body's movements._

_"Oh, you're gonna do it. First you're gonna do it with me, then you're gonna do it with Travis, then Otter, and you're just gonna go down the line until you have done it with every single one of them, all the way until you make it back to me. Just like the little whore you are," his words hung in my ear as I moved my eyes around the circle of guys surrounding us. His hand was slowly making its way deeper into my pants and my hands were trying harder to pull him off of me._

_I was beginning to panic. All I could think of to do was stab him with silver, shoot him with silver, chop off his head, throw holy water on him; but none of that would work with this monster. All my combat training was absent from my thoughts. That and my being not completely clear headed was not helping. This wasn't just some fight with my brothers like when we practiced - until I felt his foot shift and tap against mine and my heavy pants caught in my throat. Lifting my foot, ready to bring it down on top of his as hard as I could, I heard someone's voice cut in and say, "Yo, watch her leg." My body was brought into the air, and left to hover there. Swinging my head forward, I tried to fling it back, only to stumble when my whole body spun and I was slammed into the chest of another guy._

_My arms were pinned down, the fingers pinching my skin between them, and then Darrel was in my face, my chin in his grip as he squeezed. His eyes were like fire – and not the good kind, I've never seen that anger before, or that sneer. I instantly lost any hope of getting out of this. His sneer turned into a wicked smile, and my eyes were beginning to water not only from the vice grip he had on my face, but also because now I felt like I couldn't get loose. Not with him in front of me, and this guy behind me, pinning my arms back and making it impossible for me to move. "Hey, go clear the bar. We'll do this here," he ordered to someone on his left before he faced me again. "Don't worry, baby, I'll make sure to last extra long." _

_"No, please, I'm sorry. I, I can pay you, just let me go. I don't want to do this," I cried as his opposite hand slowly traced the back of their knuckles down my cheek._

_His lips parted and I could see his white teeth gleaming towards me. "Look at you, of course you want this. With those tight, low rise jeans that look almost painted on. Mmm, and that thin, black tank that dips down low to show those big, supple breasts. You're practically asking for it," His fingers that had been on my cheek were now running over my chest and I felt goose bumps and waves of terror roll through me as the guy holding me back pulled on my arms – shoving my chest forward against my will. Darrel's lips were suddenly smacking against mine and I could taste the alcohol he'd been drinking as he deepened the kiss. I tried to pull my head back, but it wasn't working. I couldn't break free._

_His lips disappeared and so did his grasp on my face. I was panting, crying, and choking against the spit his tongue had left when I saw him turn and heard a loud crack before he flew back into me and then fell to the ground in a heap. The man holding onto me stumbled back into a wall, still keeping me in his grasp, and I looked up to see the back of a leather jacket and an elbow that was rapidly moving up and down in the air as a fist continued to connect with Darrel's face. The leathered body sprang off Darrel's now bloody and limp mess, and there was a click as the lights of the bar reflected off of the silver barrel of a gun. There were shoves and yells as feet pounded against the hard floor of the bar, leaving probably no more than a total of five left standing there._

_"Anybody else wanna make this last extra long, 'cause I gotta tell ya, I have plenty of rage to go around," I heard a gruff voice bark out loud enough that it filled the entire place and I felt myself shake and avoid eyes that weren't even directed at me._

_"Hey, man, this doesn't concern you, just drop the gun and we can work past this. Hell, we can even let you get a go at her. You wanna go first?" I felt the chest of the man rumble as he spoke behind me._

_The barrel of the gun was suddenly pointing in my direction and there were eyes ablaze with hate right behind that. A smile didn't show up as his head tipped lightly and the sarcastic happy scoff came from deep within his throat. "Oh, I'm gonna be the one to go first, now let her go," he ordered. No one moved, but I felt the fingers around my arms loosen and re-grip to continue to pinch my skin. "You've got to the count of one before I pull this trigger and send this bullet straight into that sick and twisted mind, you son of a bitch."_

_It was like my body was suddenly more important than before. People were shifting around us, not sure whether or not to move, and I could feel their eyes boring into my skin as they stared, trying to figure out what to do next. "You'll hit her before you even get close to me," the voice behind me said with certainty as I felt my body suddenly and slowly moving as though it was being centered in front of the gun._

_Dean closed the difference between us in two large steps and his gun was tipping my head to the side as its barrel dug into the face of the man behind me. "Even if I stood fifty yards back, this bullet is still going to enter your fugly-ass face in this same God damn spot."_

_"Your bluffing," my human vice chanced._

_"Try me." It was like the minutes slowly ticked by and turned into hours before I was finally pushed forward and into Dean's chest where he didn't even flinch. His gun was still raised and pressed against the cheek of the guy. "Becca, get in the car," he ordered. I shoved past the blockade of guys, slipping on spilled beer and bumping into tables as my tears blurred my vision. Speeding my way to the door as fast as I could, I flew down the steps and to the car that sat in the far side of the parking lot, just on the outside of the circle of light from street lamp..._

"No," I shook my head and pushed flannel guy's hand off my side. "No, I'm sorry," I breathed.

He looked completely shocked by my sudden movement and pushing away of his flirty gesture. "What did –"

"It's not, I just," I couldn't focus. I breathed deeply and tried to gain composure. "Look, you're really nice, it's just, I can't do this. I'm sorry. It's not you."

"But I thought –" flannel guy seriously didn't get was going on. I continued to shake my head while pursing my lips.

I felt ashamed as I broke off his advances. He really had been a nice, sweet, innocent – well maybe not innocent – but definitely decent guy. It was my own problems screwing this up right now. Dean was walking over, pocketing the cash into his jeans as he did so. His brows were raised, assessing the situation. "Hey man, good game," he shook hands with flannel guy before grabbing my beer off the bar and tipping it towards me as if to ask permission. I nodded my head to him, not even really comprehending what happened. I felt naked, and I suddenly felt exactly like the kind of person Sam been telling me I was. Dean followed through with typical "_the hustle is over and you're my little sister again_" fashion. His leather jacket was quickly shrugged off of him and then wrapped over my shoulders, swallowing me up beneath it. Man this thing is heavy, but I felt like there was a protective shield around me. Sticking my arms in the sleeves, I noticed my fingertips just reached the opening at the end. I was sure I looked like a child in this.

We normally played nice with the guys who didn't try to get in my pants and were actual human beings. Dean usually finished my beer, bought them a beer with the card, and then slapped a ten in their hands for the trouble. He once told me that it was the least he could do for making me break so many hearts. I laughed in his face when he told me that, and he chuckled right along beside me, but at the time, it made me feel better. Flannel guy was talking to Dean and they seemed pretty into it as I absentmindedly leaned an elbow onto the bar and then played with some loose hair that framed my face. "_You're practically asking for it…" _was all I could hear in my head. Was I practically asking for it? I had more clothes on then than I did now, and here flannel guy didn't seem to be thinking that I was "_practically asking for it_". Was Darrel just some sort of asshole? Well, yeah, he was definitely a total skeez. I felt like I was suffocating and instantly needed to get out of the bar. I heard flannel guy's voice but I didn't even notice I'd cut him off until I grabbed Dean's arm as it brought the beer to his lips before finishing it. "Can we just go now?" I asked quietly.

Dean's eyes questioned me before shrugging it off and setting the bottle on the bar. Pulling out a ten dollar bill he slapped it into flannel guy's hand, praised his game, and then they shook hands once more.

Following my lead to the door, he watched me cautiously before we entered the area lit by bright lights just on the otherside of the bar's wall and then rounded the corner of the bar, seeing Sam leaning against the Impala, a newspaper in his hands. I was still lost in my own thoughts when we stepped out off of the stairs and stopped in front of Sam who Dean was waving our winnings at.

"You know, we could get day jobs once in a while," Sam sighed as Dean re-pocketed the cash.

I rolled my eyes, trying to leave all my uncertainties back at the bar. "That would never work," I responded.

Sam tucked the paper under his arm. "We could make it work."

"How? Get a new one every two weeks? Have our tax forms mailed to some random P.O. box? Sam, come on, we could never just get a job."

"Besides, hunting's our day job. And the pay is crap," Dean argued. He had a point. And even though it completely sucked, hunting is what I knew. I would probably get antsy if I couldn't leave some town in my dust. It's easier to shove down problems if you pretend they sit in that one town and then you avoid that town like the plague. "_You're practically asking for it…_"

Sam was growing irritated, and it showed through his tone. "Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean."

"Well, let's see, honest," Dean held out one hand into the air. "Fun and easy," Dean held out his other hand and acted like he was a giant scale and weighed the options. Surprise, surprise. Fun and easy won. "It's no contest. Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do."

"Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked." And there's the attitude I'd missed from the last case. Yep, Sam was in full blown pissed attitude, and his lasers were set to stun and focused on me.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze and began to tug on the legs of my shorts, really wishing they were full length pants. This skin tight cami wasn't helping me either. "Yeah, says you," Dean bit back.

"I mean it Dean! Look," he gestured to me with a hand, "you got your sister in there helping you, using her body to get you money. Just like some sort of stripper or something."

Dean's body went rigid and he held out a hand as the command came from his mouth. "That's enough, Sam."

Sam's tone seemed to have a laugh behind it as he continued his conquest of attacking the girl of the group. "No, really, look at her. Her shorts are shorter than Daisy Duke's and her shirt is so tight that it –" Sam was quickly cut off as Dean stepped up and had Sam's shirt in his hold and his tall frame pinned between Dean's chest and the metal of the car.

I froze. I did not see any of this coming. I mean, yeah, comments from Sam had been a constant lately, but I was just waiting for that final word to come out before I went for the jugulars. Except this time, I wasn't the one who was ready to kill him.

"I mean it, Sammy," Dean's voice was menacing. "Watch what you say about her," he seethed.

Dean had let go of Sam and stepped back beside me, his shoulder blocking me from directly being able to reach forward and touch my twin. "Oh, so now all of a sudden you're going to defend her? You're seriously going to tell me that her acting like this doesn't bother you?"

"Yeah, Sam, I am! She hasn't done anything wrong, and you need to quit acting like she's some sort of street walker –"

"Dean –"

"She's my sister, too, and I'm telling you to lay off. You call her a whore one more time, and I'm not gonna be the one holding her back because you're gonna have to answer to me. I'm done listening to this. Show her some respect, or stop talking," Dean cut right back in. There was silence as Sam glared at Dean, and Dean stared back at Sam with that look that told us all he wasn't kidding, he wasn't budging, and this was what was going to happen whether we wanted it to or not. Sam's jaw tightened and I couldn't blink. What the hell just happened? Did that night in the graveyard flip some switch I didn't know was there? Hot damn, I think I just got a big brother back. "We got a new gig or what?" Dean broke the silence while at the same time drawing all of the tension to a sudden dull ebb.

Sam eyed me and then Dean with a hard stare before slapping the paper with his hand. "Maybe," he bit. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma – not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

"Huh?" Dean didn't understand but I did. That's right. Now that Sam was back, I'd felt way more dumb than before. I felt like I didn't know what the heck he was talking about half the time, and I wanted to prove I was smart, too.

I stepped forward, finally joining the conversation. "It's human mad cow disease," I informed them both, catching their quick stares. Bam, guess I am smarter now.

"Mad cow… Wasn't that on Oprah?" Dean asked me.

Yes, yes it had been on Oprah. Yes, yes I knew Dean watched Oprah. Yes, yes Dean knew I knew he watched Oprah. No, no we never ever talked about it. "You watch Oprah?" Sam's brows shot up as he looked to Dean.

I shook my head while Dean struggled to find some sort of way to defend himself. "No, I saw it. I'm a sucker for the show. Love me some free prizes," I chuckled slightly. This moment between us was still pretty awkward and I really didn't know how to address it. I was still sort of reeling from the memory that was a little more than completely fizzled out. My skin still burned from where flannel guy had been running his finger tips, and my pride still hurt from that night I'd thought about. Sam continued to stare at me and I shifted my feet. Why was this suddenly so hard? Because Dean had snapped on him? Because I went from Becca back to baby Becca who needed her big brother to stand up to her other big brother like when they were twelve and Sam teased her? I felt like a teenager once again.

"So, this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?" Dean brought Sam's gaze back to him. I'm just gonna guess we could all feel the tension.

"Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less," Sam explained handing the paper over to Dean so he could read it.

Um, ew. His brain disintegrated? How does that just happen with a snap of the fingers. "Gross," I made a face as I said the words. My mind totally just imagined someone's brain disintegrating in front of me. And it wasn't cool like Spielberg would have made it in some movie either. It was disgusting and gross and messy and I am going to have to scrub my brain now.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a small smile at my face. "Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be somethin' much nastier."

"Is that even a question? When it is ever just a disease?" I asked them both.

"All right. Oklahoma," Dean signaled for us to all get in the car so we could head out. "Man," he complained. "Work, work, work. No time to spend my money," he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away before my belt was clicked or my shoes were off.

I scoffed from my spot in the back as I settled into the middle of the bench. "Our money," I told him.

His brows narrowed as he looked in the rearview. "Huh?"

"I totally helped you win that money," I informed him.

"You just distracted the flannel kid."

"Still helped."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even make out some sort of weird choked noise, Dean and I both turned to face him and spoke at the same time. "Shut up, Sam," we ordered only to be met with a fallen face and scowl.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-six.**

You should all applaud me. I did some homework today, before I typed up this chapter. Granted it was not a whole lot, but with my migraine, Chinese and reading between the Paganistic lines, I opted for the FF writing.

**To all you reviewers/PMers/adders - you are seriously the nicest people. I don't know if you know what other people have written me, but they are the kindest words ever. I truly appreciate each and every last one of them.**  
**Thank you!**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

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The Impala door creaked loudly behind me as I shut it and then bent forward, stretching my limbs. Remind me to get Dean some WD40 for that obnoxious noise. I'm sure he'll just whine and guy moan about something stupid, but the sound could seriously be absent and the car would still be super bad ass. Standing back up straight, I rolled my shoulders. God, wearing Dean's jacket felt like I was carrying a feed bag around my shoulders, or some sort of heavy duty armored vest. No wonder he wears this all the time – nothing could possibly pierce through this. Why was I still wearing Dean's jacket? Well, because after we'd piled into the Impala after everything that happened at the bar, I realized I was exhausted, and it didn't take long for me to fall over and curl up into a ball. Would you believe that as I curled up into this jacket, the only parts that _weren't_ covered in leather were my ankles and socks? Do you know that means? Either Dean's jacket is freaking huge, or I should try to fit into some luggage because, that would mean I can curl up like a beast. And this jacket is _beyond_ warm. I am actually a little surprised Dean hadn't told me to take it off. Maybe he knew that I was thinking of it more than just a jacket at this point. Aw, Dean, when'd you get to be so smart!

There were a handful of other cars in the parking lot of the Oklahoma Gas and Power Company building when we got there, and down, tucked back into the far corner there were a few guys, one obviously a paid employee. Following behind Dean and Sam, I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the cuffs of the jacket, and that was hard on its own. These sleeves are super long. Maybe I am just shrinking. We are going to have to check this out. I could feel the bottom edge of the jacket rubbing against my legs with each step, and I heard Sam chuckle behind me before he was suddenly at my side. "Have you looked at yourself today, Bec?"

I groaned. "Seriously, Sam, if this is just gonna be another comment about how you think I'm some sort of horrible excuse for a decent kind of girl, just save it. I don't really have the energy to argue with you, and these people won't understand why I will have to call over to Dean to beat you up, and then he would probably be on his way to jail after massacring you." And I didn't have the energy. Our possibly still occurring fight had left me drained; my flashback last night that had crept into my dreams left me drained; I was coming off a week of hell which was leaving me even more drained; and as Dean would put it, I was "_leaking girl crap_" for a few more days – and if you also ever "_leak girl crap_" you know that it's a pain, and that only a dragon's fiery scream can explain how aggravated you feel. And I am fresh out of dragons.

"No," Sam instantly defended, smiling and shaking his head. "No, not that. I meant you wearing Dean's jacket. And your hair," he explained.

I didn't miss the "_not that_" part. So he still thinks that I am a horrible excuse for a decent kind of girl? "What do you mean? And what about my hair?" My hands instantly flew up to touch my head, well they tried to anyway. Leather jacket sleeves don't just slip down and gather at your elbows, they kind of just stay stiff and make it hard to move.

Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets as we continued to follow after Dean who was a few paces of ahead of us. "That jacket swallows you up, and with your bed head, you kind of look like a five year old."

"A cute five year old?" I chanced.

His brows furrowed and he stopped, turning to face me. "Wha… What?"

I also stopped and shrugged, looking down at myself. My toes of my white sneakers peeked past the jacket. I had to bend to see my legs, and the jacket hit against my thighs. Straightening back up, it looked like the jacket just hung straight off of me, the zipper looking as though it was up because of how the jacket sat. It sort of reminded me of those old ladies you saw as a kid who walked around with the fuzzy hand warmer thingy and their coats just hung off them and they looked like giant walking bells with tiny feet. Know what I mean? That's how I felt. Not like a bell, but that the jacket sat like that. And I don't know what Sam is trying to say about my hair, because I know what my hair looks like after I've slept with it in a ponytail; and I did see it in the back window of the car; and it looked freaking adorable. "Well, you said I look like a five year old. I wanna know if I look like a cute one."

"Does it matter?" he still didn't seem to understand why I was asking this.

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. Would you rather look like the five year old that everyone just smiles at and gives into because they're just that freaking cute, or would you rather be the five year old with sticky hands, dirty cheeks, and a crusty nose? I gotta tell ya Sam, no one likes a crusty nosed kid."

Sam just stared at me while I looked up at him innocently. If I was the cute five year old, we could probably get answers quicker. Just saying. "Um, I guess you're the adorable one?"

"Obviously," I rolled my eyes and started walking away. "You always had the crusty nose anyway – that's why you didn't have any friends," I teased as I spoke back to him over my shoulder.

I stopped beside Dean and Sam was soon right on my other side, finishing our short line of three. He seemed perplexed – whoa, big word, I know. Sam had used it the other day, and I liked the way it sounded, only when I heard him say it I told him he was a geek and that he kept trying to shove his college education on all of us and needed to stop. It means to be "bewildered or puzzled". Yeah, I can be smart, too. Anyway, he looked completely _perplexed_. "Travis Weaver?" he nodded to the worker who had just finished speaking with another person.

"Yeah, that's right," he squinted his eyes against the sun's bright light and set his arm and lunch box against the hood of his work van, while his other hand held some rolled up papers. Talk about a stereotypical view of a worker. Ah, well, I guess we know TV doesn't actually lie.

"Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?" Dean's deep voice drew Travis's eyes from Sam to my other side, where Dean was standing, waiting for an answer.

Travis looked taken aback and his lips formed a low pout before he blinked a few times and then answered. "Dustin never mentioned nephews," I cleared my throat, "or a niece."

"Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest," Dean smiled, totally boosting this guy's ego as Sam nodded in agreement.

And it worked, Travis totally grinned. "Oh, he did? Huh," he was definitely pretending like he was shocked and didn't expect that. Dude, you totally expected that. I mean, you just stood up a little straighter, your eyes went wide, and your grip readjusted on the handle of the lunch box you're now holding a little more loosely.

"Don't get your hopes up," I chimed in, winking in an innocent way. "I was his favorite," I smiled happily.

"I can see why," his eyes met mine. Did this train just pull into creepy town? I was being an adorable five year old, not the adorable twenty-five year old. Back off, Jack. Sam, this guy just shot your theory of me looking like a small child to hell. And we said Dustin was our _uncle_, which means that you just considered me to partake in incest. And I am not only officially creeped out, but a little bit offended.

Dean caught on, too, thankfully, because he stepped up slightly so that his arm was just now sitting between Travis and me. "Listen," his voice had the order tone, but only Sam and I would know that. To Travis he just seemed more serious. To us, it meant, be on your toes because if this guy makes another comment, we might have to prepare for a reaction. Sam stiffened beside me, and his jaw went tight. Yep, he totally got the message. "We wanted to ask you… What exactly happened out there?" Dean threw the question out and I saw his eyes watching Travis's. Good, his eyes were bugging out all over me, and I definitely thanked the leather jacket gods for blessing me with Dean's.

Travis refocused on Dean. "I'm not sure. He fell in a sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope, and uh… by the time I got back…"

"What did you see?" Sam's voice was a little bit harder than it had been when we were talking. Does this mean he's silently apologizing for everything? Why is he such a complicated human being? Was he being protective for me, against this guy?

Bouncing his eyes right over the top of my head from Dean to Sam, Travis shook his head and his voice lost the confidence it'd had earlier. I didn't miss the fact that his loose grip on the lunch box had retightened and he was clenching harder than before. "Nothin'. Just Dustin."

"Now wounds or anything?" I asked disbelievingly. "You didn't see anything. He was just laying there, all dead, and you didn't see anything. The paper said mad cow disease. Not heart attack. There had to have been something."

"You know, you ask an awful lot of questions for –"

"Just answer them," I cut him off with a glare.

Travis stuck a tongue on the side of his mouth and shifted his weight so that he was now fully leaning onto the arm that was resting on the hood, holding the lunch box. He was looking from one brother to the other, trying to figure out just how to approach the attitude I had. "He was bleeding… From his eyes and his ears, his nose. But that's it." That's it? You mean in comparison to how there was nothing, all of a sudden poor Uncle Dusty was laying bleeding from all the holes in his face – but of course, that's _nothing_. Freaking civilians, I swear.

"So you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?" Dean pressed.

Travis shrugged. "I don't know. That's what the doctors are sayin'."

"Well, that's not what we asked. We want to know what _you_ think happened. I mean, you pretty much are the last person to see him alive. And from my experiences, doctor's don't really have a clue. So, now, I'm gonna ask you again, Travis, do _you_ think that this could be the whole mad cow thing?"

Travis dropped his eyes from over my head to my eyes, and they were aggravated. "I told you, that's what the doctor's are sayin'. If you wanna know more, go ask them."

"Oh, I just might," I said smugly while stepping forward and was then blocked by Dean's elbow. I looked up to him, and received a small head shake, and I rolled my eyes. Shifting my stance, I put all my pressure onto my left leg and then stuck my right one out on angle. I was channeling my inner angry cheerleader.

"Travis," Sam cut in, instantly way less irritated than I was. "If it was mad cow disease, he would've acted strange beforehand. Like, dementia, loss of motor control… You ever notice anything like that?"

Shaking his head and losing some of his bitterness towards me, Travis pushed off the van. "No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some _disease_," he shot the word to me with a sneer. Bite me, Travis. You and I will never be friends after this. You legit just made some weird assumption and quip that I may or may not sleep with my fake uncle. What kind of family do you think we told you we belong to? What a freak. "…what the hell was it?"

"That's a good question," Dean told him, looking from Sam down to me. Great, so we pretty much got no real answers. This had been a waste.

"You know, can you tell us where this happened?" Sam questioned, raising his hands that were still in his pockets, so his jacket flared out at the bottom. It reminded me of a cape. I don't know why it reminded me of a cape, but it did.

Travis nodded his head and set the lunch box down at his feet. "Yeah. We were working this job up at…"

* * *

Yeah, I am coming to the conclusion that we are probably more cognito than incognito. By that I mean, we are totally bad at laying low. On one side we have an empty space, and behind us, construction crews. And here we are, leaving the Impala, which is totally not invisible, and walking toward the clearly blocked off and police-tape surrounded "crime scene". There was this giant hole in the middle of the police-tape circle. Ducking under the tape and walking to the edge of the hole, I peered forward, and down, seeing nothing but dirt. There was a light scratch to the back of my neck and then a sharp tug on the collar of Dean's jacket pulled me back, stumbling. Looking up, I saw Sam shaking his head.

"Now what'd I do wrong?" I huffed.

Dean scoffed from beside us, while Sam still held onto the jacket I was wearing. "Right. Like you won't fall in there because you tripped over a rock or something," he teased.

Fine. So he had a point, I was clumsy, and I would probably fall in there, head first, bust a kneecap, end up unconscious, and then probably would have to be put down. But that's only a possibility. "That would so not happen," I argued, slapping Sam's hand off the back of the jacket. "Here, and take this," I shrugged off the jacket and handed it to Dean, "it's super heavy and I think I'm going to be a hunchback now. Thank you though. Remind me to invest in one my own size – that thing is like a total bad ass bullet proof thing."

"Damn straight," he smiled putting it on. "So, what do you guys think?"

"I think that it still looks better on me, but you can sort of pull it off," I answered honestly as I looked at the jacket on him.

Dean looked at me, perplexed – bam. Twice in one day, bitches. "I meant the sinkhole."

"Oh, well, I don't know about that. I was talking about the jacket," I shrugged as I turned from facing Dean to facing the hole in the ground once more.

"You wish you could pull this off."

"I totally pulled that off. And I did it with probably twelve percent more bad ass-ary."

"Anyway," Sam cut in. "So, if Travis was right, whatever happened happened pretty damn fast."

Pulling out my flashlight, I walked to the edge of the hole and clicked the light on before peering down into it once more. There was a grip on the back of my camisole, and I knew someone had a handful of gray cloth in their hand as my brothers stood there continuing their conversation. Tipping further, I tried to look at the wall of the hole right below my feet, and then saw as my foot pressed further into the ground, chunks and a small shower of dirt fell from the grass patch to the floor. The grip on my shirt tightened, and I felt the hold trying to bring me back. "So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?" Dean pushed skeptically while still holding onto my cami. "I swear to God, Becca, if you fall in that hole I will leave you there on principle." On principle? What the hell kind of principle? It's not like I had done something… I seriously am lost more than anything while talking to these two.

Sam was next to me, and nudged my arm with his elbow, holding out his palm for my light. "No, there'd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside," he explained while researching the area I'd just looked at.

"Huh," Dean chewed on his tongue and looked over my shoulder, down into the light. "Looks like there's only room for one. You wanna flip a coin? Or we can just shove Becca down."

I scrunched up my face and looked up at him. "I'm not going down there, you go down there."

Dean scrunched up his face in return. "You're either gonna fall in there on your own, or I'm gonna push you in, but you're going in."

"Careful, Dean, that constipated duck look might just stick on _your_ face," I bit. "And I am _not_ going into the giant pit of death. You go."

"Dean, we have no idea what's down there," Sam sighed through our bantering.

The grip on my shirt was gone, and there was a light shove on my back, sending me to lean forward. I started spinning my arms around, as if I was a baby bird trying to fly from the tree, and I was definitely freaking out. I'm going down. There is no way to recover from this totally humiliating moment! I was falling and I felt my foot slip, and just when I thought I was done for, a large arm wrapped around my stomach and I folded over it like a shirt on a line. Then I was spun, like, a wet cat who had been plucked from a river, and I was facing a grinning Dean who was holding up rope. "Rope," he stated, holding it up for me to see. "All right, since Becca's scared, one of us will have to go. You scared, too, Sammy?"

I was still hanging over Sam's arm – I can't believe how strong these guys are – as I snatched the rope out of his hand. My feet were back on the ground and Sam's arm left my stomach. "Flip the damn coin," Sam huffed. I didn't pay any attention to them as I shifted the rope so that I was hanging onto the end. Stretching my arms all the way apart and then gripping where the rope landed, I brought the end to that middle section and started spinning the rope, and then twisting the rope, and then tying the rope. I was totally determined. "Becs, what are you doing?" Sam asked me from where he was watching while Dean was digging around in his pockets looking for a coin.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to tie a knot, and failing," he answered.

I groaned, and undid my knot, stretching the rope back out in my hands to start all over. "Well, Sam, I am actually trying to fasten a noose, because when we karate kick Dean down into the hole, I want to –"

The rope was snatched out of my hand and Dean was shooting me the _look_, and now holding not only the rope but also a quarter. Looking at Sam and opening his mouth, he looked back at me and rolled his shoulders. I, in response, slightly lurched forward, trying to get him to flinch – yeah right. "All right, call it in the air," he instructed before looking at me.

I watched him flip the quarter into the air and called out, "Tails," before he caught it.

"Not you, chicken."

"Bite me, overgrown monkey," I retorted as he eyed me and then nodded to Sam.

Flipping the coin in the air again, Dean and I waited for Sam to call a side when his hand snapped up and caught the coin in midair. "I'm going," Sam stated, pocketing the quarter.

"I said I'd go," Dean interjected. What a load and total crock of smelly bull dung. He did not say he would go. He said he would shove me down there and leave me there to rot, and then he called me a chicken.

"I'm going," Sam enforced.

Before Dean could put up a stink about it, I snatched the rope from Dean's overgrown monkey hands, and handed it to Sam, who began to wrap it around his waist. "Don't drop me," he ordered. Please, like I would intentionally drop him. Then again…

Dean secured the rope's knot and nodded to Sam who walked to the edge and then worked his way down to the bottom of the pit. He used my flashlight to check around while Dean and I stood up at the top, waiting. I stood on part of the rope, just in case it all started to slide into the hole, like it always does in TV, and then played with the frayed end that was still top side of the hole. "Hey, Bec, think fast," I heard Dean say from right behind me, causing me to snap my head up, and then I felt a shove against my side, taking me completely by surprise. I felt myself fall and then the next thing I knew, I was laying on my back, at Sam's feet, staring up into shocked green eyes, and a bright white flashlight. Beyond that was a shit eating grin, and bright eyes, and then an echoed, "Well I'll be damned, two people can fit down there."

I groaned and brought my hand to my head, and then held it out, blocking the light from the bulb that was making me see spots. Sam smiled, wiped a hand over his chin, and then broke out to a straight laugh. "Hey Dean," he called out.

"Yeah?"

Sam bent down and grabbed something from off my stomach, and then turned to face Dean, spinning the rope in his hand. "You gonna be able to catch this and get us out of here?"

I think I broke a kidney.

* * *

Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD I TOUCHED A BUG. Well, I landed on a bug. A bunch of bugs. After Sam had helped me up, I bent down to brush off my legs, and Sam said that they were like _glued _to my back. I FREAKED. I started screaming, waving my arms around, throwing the rope up at a laughing Dean, trying to climb onto the shoulders of a completely shocked and laughing Sam. Worst big brothers. Worst big brothers, EVER. After they finally got me out of the hole, I sprinted to the Impala, and popped the trunk, and then tore through my duffel. Pulling out a tee shirt, I quickly pulled off my cami, and re-clothed myself, much to the dismay of Dean who was standing back at the hole, helping Sam, and yelling "_What the hell are you doing_?" What was I doing? I was getting the freaking touch of bugs off of me. It was so gross, and disgusting, and I was cringing. Snapping the trunk closed, I calmed myself down and then opened the door and slid into the back seat. Dean and Sam took their time walking over and getting in, and then when they did, Sam looked expectant. I rose one eyebrow, not sure what to think, and then Dean grinned, and tossed something at me. I instantly flinched, and then when I saw it was a beetle, I flip my shit. I started pawing at my shirt and the bug went down the cut and into my bra, and I screamed, flinging myself from the car. Pulling my shirt and bra away from my skin, I jumped and bounced around until I finally saw the bug fall from underneath my clothes and land on the ground before bouncing a few inches away. I quickly went to kick at it, to get it away and then spun around to glare death at Dean. Ladies and gentlemen, I think I may have actually just turned into a dragon.

"You think that's freaking funny?!" I yelled, my fists clenched as I yelled through his open window.

He wiped a finger along the rim of his eye, and smiled. "Ah, I'm dyin'," he breathed between laughs. "That was great," he leaned back in his seat, still laughing at me, and I could see Sam laughing behind a fist in the passenger seat.

"That was not funny, Dean! I could have died!"

"The bug was already dead," Sam leaned towards Dean's window to tell me.

Like that makes a difference! "Like that makes a difference!"

Dean calmed himself down, but still had that smile on his face. The smile that said he was trying not to smile, but couldn't help himself. Jackass. "All right, come on, time to get in the car," he patted the door with his palm. I glared at him and then moved to slide into the back seat of the car, slamming the door as hard as I could when I did. "So, you found some beetles. In a hole, in the ground," Dean ran through the list as he started to drive down the road.

"Well, I actually found them on Becca's back," Sam teased turning to face me, while examining a beetle that was pinched between his fingers.

"You brought that thing into the car? Throw it out the window! Why would you bring that in here? Gross, gross, gross, gross," I slid as far away from Sam as I could, and I found myself pressed tightly to the door behind Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and then just continued on. "Either way, there were no tunnels, no tracks. No evidence of any other kind of creature down there. Besides Becca. But you know, some beetles do eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat but –"

"I TOLD YOU IT COULD HAVE KILLED ME!" I yelled. Dean gave me his "shut up and get over it" eyes via the rear view, and then he just went back to talking to Sam.

"How many did you peel off of her?"

"Ten," Sam answered.

"_Peel off of her_"? Come on now. They are acting like this was some sort of funny joke or something. It is not funny. Those beetles could have eaten me. Dean absorbed this information and the only sound that I heard was the rumbling of the engine. "It'd take a whole lot more than _ten_ to eat out some dude's brain," he announced.

Probably not. I mean, I was just attacked by one, and I think I'm feeling my brain begin to disintegrate. Dear God, I'm going to die. "Well, maybe there were more. Maybe they all crawled into Becca and are eating her now," Sam reached over the edge of the front seat and quickly tapped his finger tips against my knee. Do not touch me, gigantor! Just because we are on better terms, because Dean threatened to kill both of us if we weren't, does not mean you can go around making such false accusations. Bugs are not inside of me eating my – HOLY CRAP. I started to frantically scratch at the spot Sam had just "tickled".

"Why would you say that? Now I'm itchy. Dean, hit him for saying that!"

Dean ignored me. "It sounds like a stretch to me," he told Sam. "Becca, quit scratching so much, you're gonna scratch your skin right off or something."

I wouldn't be scratching if Sam hadn't put the idea into my head. "We need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like that has ever happened before," Sam finally tossed the bug out of his window and wiped his hands on his pants before settling back into his seat. We passed into a neighborhood where a large sign reading "_Open House"_ was stuck into the grass and a ton of red balloons were tied to the stake the sign had been stapled on. Down the line there was another sign, also wrapped in balloons, but this one said "_Models Open. New Buyer's BBQ Today!_" The only part that stuck out to me was "_BBQ_". I didn't realize before that the last thing I'd eaten was the chips that flannel guy had bought me last night at the bar. Man, I was totally starving.

"I know a good place to start," Dean pointed to the sign. "I'm kinda hungry for a little barbeque, how 'bout you guys?" I nodded my head and rubbed my stomach.

"Dude, I'm starving. I would kill for a burger right now," I answered, agreeing that we should totally get some chow.

Sam being Sam though, just looked at us both, with some sort of look that judged us. "What? We can't talk to the locals?" Dean pressed.

"And the free food's got nothin' to do with it?" Sam suggested with an upraised brow.

I faced him, turning in my seat and bringing my knee up beneath me. "Uh, hello, the free food is a plus. Let's see, drive into town, find a greasy diner with bad meat, only to eat food we have to pay for, and then drive all the way back here _anyway_," I held one hand in the air, "or, go to the barbeque, get some grub that we don't have to pay for, and get some answers while saving on gas," I held my other hand up and balanced them out like a scale. "Oh no, you're right Sam, money waste makes a ton more sense. I mean, here I am trying to save the planet but whatever."

"Besides, man," Dean grinned. "We're professionals," he stuck his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to me, and shook it.

"Right," Sam sarcastically agreed.

"Well forget you then," I shrugged uncaringly. "Imma eat your burger."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-seven.**

**I am so sorry about the time that it took for me to upload! Life has been a little bit hectic, and I am trying to become a good student and focus on my homework. So naturally, I dropped a class. Yep, more time for other lessons.**  
**I wanted to make sure to get this out before tomorrow, so that I can start work on the next chapter, and hopefully get another one out to you guys before Sunday, and definitely before Monday. (Depending on my free time, I can dedicate ample time to this, cross your fingers.)**  
**This chapter may not have a whole lot of Becca-isms, but I think you'll still enjoy it. I hope you still enjoy it.**

**In other news, I now have fallen victim to having a Twitter. I've put the info up on my "Profile" but I thought I'd throw it in here too, for those that would be curious, but don't actually read the "Profile"s. So, feel free to follow me!  
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**Thanks to Jenmm31 for being my driving force. She has been so sweet. Let's show love by traveling over to her and reading/reviewing/PMing/and offering up ideas. She likes when you do that. Show her you care.**

**More thanks than I could ever give you, to all the reviewers/PMers/list adders. You seriously cannot even guess how big my smile is when I read what you have to say. You guys all give/say the nicest things, and I appreciate every last word. I hope you guys continue to enjoy this story!**

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**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"Growin' up in a place like this would freak me out," Dean shuddered as we worked our way from the car to the open house. Well, it wasn't _actually_ open, the door was closed and we were going to have to knock, but I guess it's just some sort of concept thing or whatever.

Skipping up and linking arms with the two of them, I plastered a cheery smile onto my face. "Whyyyyyy would growing up in a place like this freak you out?" I looked up at Dean as I stopped skipping and matched their pace.

He looked down at me and smirked, just like when we were younger and he thought I was adorable, or when I totally made him proud to call me his sister. Guess I can totally pull off the awesome five year old thing without the giant leather cloak of super cool. "Well, manicured lawns, "_How was your day, honey_?" I'd blow my brains out," he explained as he resituated his hand in his pocket, slightly tugging on my arm. Eh, that makes sense. I can't really see Dean handling this lifestyle well.

"There's nothing wrong with "normal"," Sam interjected from where he stood on my other side. He seemed almost defensive. He had a disgusted look on his face as a silent thought crossed through his mind.

I nodded my head at Sam's remark. "Which is why we live that apple pie, evil fighting, monster killing, normal life," I told them both, stopping in my tracks, and causing them to both stop as well. They both stood and slightly turned, looking down at me. When no one else started talking, I just rolled my eyes. "It's true!" Still no response.

"Becca, do you even know the definition of normal?" Sam broke our arm link and looked down at me, disbelievingly.

I looked at him and blinked, waiting to see if he would continue. Oh, so he really wanted a vocal answer there then, huh? Well, I guess I can answer his serious face with a serious response. "I mean, Webster and I haven't like, talked on the phone about it or anything bu –" I started, but he quickly cut me off. Who wants to be serious all the time anyway?

"It means conforming to the standard or common type or –"

"Calm down there, dictionary dot com, I get what you are saying. But what _I_ am saying, is that normal is when something doesn't seem odd, right? Like, Dean eating a double bacon cheeseburger with too many onions – that's normal. Or Dad not answering his phone anytime I call – that is becoming increasingly normal. Well, what if what we do can be considered normal? We grew up like this, Sam, making it _our_ normal. What… what if all of this," I motioned my hand to the houses and people around us in the subdivision, "isn't the real normal. I mean, think about it. Clearly not everyone in America can live like this. If they could, there wouldn't be hobos living under bridges and crap."

And here comes Sam's "_I'm freaking right, and you're attacking me as a person, and you're an idiot_" face. ""_Our normal_", Becca? Come on, do you really consider hunting down monsters and moving from one disease ridden motel to the next something that can be called _normal_? This," Sam held his hands in the air and spun in the spot as he gestured to literally everything; this guy is totally a one-upper, "is normal. These people have jobs, _real_ jobs. They have families, and friends, and neighbors. They go to company picnics, and their biggest worry is whether or not their bills are paid on time. That's what normal is. That's what I was," he sighed before sticking his fists in his pockets and chewing on his tongue. How do you freaking respond to that? Just sit there and say, "_Uh, you're totally right, bro_" or what? I mean, no. I felt my arm move as Dean's entire body sighed. I lightly kicked a stone with the toe of my shoe, and watched it bounce away from me and knock into Sam's boot. Sam nodded his head and did the guy nose sniff thing that tells you "_fine, whatever, this isn't over_" before he pinched his nose with his hand and then walked away towards the house.

I watched him turn down the house's front walk when Dean wiggled his arm, bringing my attention to him. Looking up at him, I suddenly felt like the ashamed five year old while he tipped his head towards me but kept his eyes on Sam's retreating form. "Normal or not, I'd take our family any day," he spoke quietly.

"Me, too," I sighed. "And I don't even like us." Dean nudged me with his arm and started moving us forward to the front porch where Sam was waiting for someone to answer his knocks.

Without actually acknowledging us, I saw Sam stiffen his shoulders as Dean stepped beside him, leaving me to stand behind Sam, still linking arms with Dean. I feel like I'm always staring at the back of a wall or something with them. I heard the door open, and did my best to peak around Sam, but Dean makes that kind of impossible, what with him being a human blockade and completely clueless sometimes. "Welcome," I heard a voice beyond the two of them say. Sam slightly shifted to the side, and I could barely see the man who was smiling and holding open the door in the new gap that had formed.

"This the barbeque?" Dean stood up a little taller as he spoke, my arm still wrapped around his. He shifted his stance, bringing me with him, and I smiled as I finally could stare the door opener full on. Well, I could see him, but I don't really think he could see me.

"Yeah, not the best weather, but… I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are…?" Larry stepped away from the door frame and a little further onto the porch, holding his finger up, gesturing to my brothers.

Dean unlinked our arms, and introduced us, "Dean. This is Sam." Well, I guess I am just not even important anymore now am I? He better have a reason for keeping me hidden back here like some sort of surprise. Maybe I am going to have to be a super stealth ninja and snoop while Dean gets his barbeque on. He better remember to grab me a burger, and then not eat it.

Gripping their outstretched hands firmly with both of his own, Larry nodded with a smile as he addressed each of them. "Sam, Dean, good to meet you. So, you guys are interested in Oasis Plains?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

"Let me just say – we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or sexual orientation…" I heard Larry say. Wait, "_sexual orientation_"? Did he just assume that Sam and Dean are gay? Together? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I started laughing, like, hard core laughing. I can't even imagine what Larry's face was like, or hell, even what Sam and Dean's faces were like. I felt a pull on my arm and I heard Dean say, "We're brothers, and this," he pulled me into view, "is our sister, Becca."

I was still laughing. Serves you right for not filling me on your "use Becca as the secret snoop" plan. Larry looked pretty embarrassed as I continued to laugh, and I could tell because his cheeks were growing red as my fit continued. I felt a jab in my ribs, from Sam's elbow, and I heard him clear his throat disapprovingly. Typical. Trying to reel in my laughs as Dean rolled his eyes, I cleared my throat right as Sam said, "Our father is getting on in years, and we're just lookin' for a place for him."

"Great, great!" Larry seemed beyond happy that the subject had changed and that I wasn't fully laughing at him anymore. Well, it isn't so much at _him_ as it is at the idea of Sam and Dean togeth – oh gross! Man! Now I'm scarred for life. Ew, ugh, mental image, mental image, mental image, get out, get out, get out! My face fell as Larry continued. "Well, seniors are welcome, too. Come on in."

Stepping through the house, Larry led us to the backyard, and the image of Dean and Sam together was finally leaving my mind. How can someone just suggest that? "You said you were the developer?" Sam asked as we stood on the porch and looked around to all the people that cluttered the backyard. Oh my gosh, there is food. I am so hungry. Elbowing Dean, I pointed to the grill where people were pulling off burgers and hotdogs. Oh man. I wanted nothing more than to run over there and pile a hundred on my plate, but an outstretched Dean arm stopped me.

Larry led us down the steps and towards the barbeque. Here we go, I am getting closer. "Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains," he explained as we stepped over to a blonde, smiling woman. Talk about a subdivision poster lady. "This is my wife, Joanie," he introduced.

"_Joanie_"? Can I please call this man Chachi? I can't be the only one who thought that when he said her name. Glancing over at Sam and Dean, I realized that yes, yes I can be the only one who thought that, and I was the only one who thought that. Such a disappointing set of siblings. I tell ya. "Hi there," Joanie stuck out her hands for us to shake.

After the introductions, Larry smiled and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to, because I need to sell some houses," he joked.

"Right," Joanie slyly agreed.

They laughed, Dean and I forced laughs, and Sam ate it all up. Did he really think that the joke was funny? Bad sense of humor on this kid. Mmm, it was definitely an awkward moment. Old people and their bad jokes. They should hang out with us for an hour, then they'll totally have some good lines. "Will you three excuse me?" Larry nodded to us before wandering away.

"Don't let his salesman routine scare you. This really is a great place to live," Joanie assured us, meeting my eyes. I smiled kindly to her, and was about to ask if it was cool to grab a plate of food when this SUPER hyped lady with a tight bun appeared out of friggen nowhere, causing me to jump.

"Hi, I'm Lynda Bloome, head of sales," she told us as she stood beside Joanie.

I immediately opened my mouth and responded, not even thinking about it, "I'm Becca, this is my brother, Sam, and that's Dean," I linked arms with Sam again, "and I think I just soiled myself out of fright." Everyone's eyes turned to face me, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Oops? Nah, no one will even remember that in like, ten seconds, anyway.

"And Lynda was second to move in," Joanie slowly dragged her eyes away from me and to Lynda as she pulled her forward. Her tone was switching from creeped out to moving on. Thank goodness. "She's a very noisy neighbor though," Joanie joked before excusing herself from us as well.

Does nobody stay and talk to people around here? First Chachi, now Joanie – maybe they really do love each other… Oh, ew, more mental images! "She's kidding, of course," Lynda assured. Well _obviously_ she's kidding, Lynda. You really think she's going to try and get rid of customers, soiling themselves or not? You are not a very good head of sales person. What was worse, was that Sam laughed at _that_ joke, too. Who _is _this guy!? "I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners."

"Well…" Dean trailed off and met Sam's eyes.

Sam stumbled over his words as Lynda's eyes bore into him. "Y-yeah, well…"

What, are they mute all of a sudden? Sam usually can't stop using big words to save his life. Now all of a sudden he has nothing coming to mind? What a joke. "Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or… sexual orientation."

Is that printed in the pamphlet, too? Good gravy, it's like they recite the thing or something. I think I may or may not have set that one up though… I guess they didn't get that Dean was my brother, too. Dean chuckled though, what a good sport. "Right," he grunted. Okay, so maybe he isn't a good sport. "Um… I'm gonna go talk to Larry," he informed us all before turning to Sam with a smile. "Okay, honey?" Sam suddenly jumped when Dean smacked him, on the ass, pretty damn loud.

Could you have helped it? Because, I couldn't, and I was laughing, again, ignoring the glares and elbows in my side from Sam. Aha, this is great. That was even better than before. "How long have you two been together?" Lynda finally questioned through the awkward silence that was only broken from my dying laughs. Well, until the creepy image of them _together_ together appeared once more. Ugh, I'm going to have to bleach my brain or something now.

"Oh, seems like Dean's always been a part of the family, huh, Sam?" I toyed, looking up at him. He glared down at me, even harder, and then forced a smile over to Lynda.

"Lynda, what can you tell us about the –" he started before she completely cut him off.

"The homes around here are great. They each have the standard…" blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening to anything that Lynda was saying. None of this was important, and if anyone is good at pretending to be interested, it's Sam. And that means, not me. I on the other hand was absentmindedly scratching my thumb with my middle finger on the hand that was linked through Sam's arm, while I looked around the yard. People. Lots of people. People in this big, fenced in backyard. The big fenced in backyard that had bright, green grass. Well, at least the yard is taken care of. That's a plus, and obviously you can have your whole high school class here for a party – hint hint. The other thing I noticed was that there was food. Food, everywhere. Everyone except me seemed to have food. I was slowly dragging my eyes around the immediate area I was standing in when they landed on the table just beside Sam. Oh man, this table had food on it! Yes! Bowls filled with chips, and rolls, and pretzels, and a giant spider, and corn on the cob, and HOLD THE FREAKING PHONE. My eyes darted to the space just beyond where Lynda was resting her hand. No, that is for sure a big ass, hairy ass, horrible ass spider. "…who can say "no" to a steam shower? I use mine everyday," Lynda was going on about something dumb. I really didn't care.

What I did care about was that Sam was now definitely in front of me, and protecting me from the tarantula that was ABOUT TO TOUCH HER HAND, OH MY GOD. I slapped Sam and pointed, trying to be discreet as I did so, to the big abomination that was working its way to eat, first Lynda, and then me. Sam quickly noticed my fear and then stopped Lynda. "Sounds great," he told her with absolutely no interest, and then shoved her out of the way with a quick, "Excuse me." Lynda wandered away with no second thought.

Sam moved forward as my continuous, "Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it! Kill it! Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!" kept sounding quietly behind him as I slapped his arm in a panicked way. I expected him to like, smack it with a shoe, or like, stick it under a cup and slide it onto a plate and then like, drown it, anything but what he actually did. And do you know what he actually did? He actually went and picked it up! OH MY GOD HE TOUCHED THE SCARY ASS SPIDER. He just let it crawl right into his oversized hand, and then he looked at me with a chuckle and stuck his hand closer to my face. "I swear to every monster out there that I will sick them all on you if you stick that thing any closer, Sam Winchester." I started batting his hand away, and he quickly turned and held the pest out a very disappointed teen.

"Is this yours?" he asked the guy.

The boy took the spider from Sam, and freaking _stroked_ its back. Like it's some sort of freaking pet or something. Um, no, that's a bug, and it needs to be dead. KILL IT AND KILL IT NOW! "You gonna tell my dad?" the kid asked moodily as he continued to pet the spider.

Eff yeah I'm gonna tell your dad! "I don't know," Sam stated. Wrong answer, the answer is YES. "Who's your dad?"

The kid rolled his eyes and scoffed as I slowly stepped closer, still keeping Sam as a shield between me and the evil, eight-legged beast. "Yeah, Larry usually skips me in the family introductions."

I licked my lips, keeping an eye on the spider. There is no way I am going to blink. That thing could be trying to bite my leg off if I break eye contact with it. "Larry?" I asked the boy. "Like, "_we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or sexual orientation_" Larry? You don't call him Dad?"

"Yeah, a first name basis with the old man – sounds pretty grim," Sam added. Uh, grim? Grim or not, you still call your dad, Dad. It's called respect, home fry.

"Well, I'm not exactly brochure material," the boy sighed. THAT'S BECAUSE YOU HAVE A BIG ASS SPIDER OUT HERE TRYING TO EAT PEOPLE!

Sam smiled kindly, and I nodded my head in agreement. He was right. Problems blow over, just look at my family. "Well, hang in there. It gets better, all right? I promise."

"When?" the kid hopefully inquired.

"Matthew!" came a yell from behind us. I kept my eyes on the spider and quickly snapped my head over my shoulder to see Dean following Larry back to where he'd left us. I eyed the spider again, totally convinced that it was now like, half an inch closer to me. Sam's just gonna let the thing eat me. I knew he never really liked me. "I am so sorry about my son and his… pet," Larry seethed through a forced smile and happy attitude as he stopped next to this Matthew kid.

Sam shook his head, and I could see the look he gave _our _father, emerge. Sam did not like this Larry guy, or the way he'd talked down about his son. I felt myself impulsively swallowing, and didn't even know why. Maybe it was years of preparation for fights. "It's no bother," Sam defended to Larry. Larry's eyes met mine, almost as if he was begging for me to disagree with Sam so that he could go off on Matthew, and I couldn't do it. I sighed and shook my head, signaling that it wasn't a bother that there was a man eating spider with multiple beady eyes staring at me and trying to make me its lunch. Sam and this Matthew kid owe me, big.

Larry didn't seem convinced as he gripped a hand around Matthew's shoulder and dragged him away with a quick and abrupt, "Excuse us."

We watched as Larry took Matthew back up the deck thingy and then dragged him to a corner and pretty much was yelling at him. "Remind you guys of somebody?" Sam threw out there while watching them. I knew where he was going with this, I knew the minute he'd given Larry that _look_. Dean however, was clueless. "Dad?" Sam sighed when Dean gave him a confused gaze.

"Dad never treated us like that," Dean told him.

"Well, Dad never treated _you_ like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case, even more than hers," he stuck a hand out to me. "You don't remember?"

Dean shrugged, and eyed both Sam and me. "Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes, you guys were out of line," he responded. I could tell by his tone he was already over the argument.

I rolled my eyes. "We were _all_ out of line at times," I told Sam, not wanting the argument to go any further. And we were, well mainly Sam, and then me. But that was only because of Sam that I was out of line. Various reasons, you know.

"Right," Sam scoffed angrily. "Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bow hunting. Or when you threw the gun clip to the ground and stormed off, talking about how you'd "_rather be doing the stupid Geometry project than learning this stupid crap again_"," Sam was looking down at me.

Of course I would have rather been doing the Geometry project. You go out there and continuously shoot dummies at a giant hay bale and taped up cardboard target.

_"All right, again. This time try aiming," my dad's gruff voice came out in annoyance and irritability as he dragged a worn hand over his very tired face._

_I looked up to his dark eyes that were rimmed in even darker circles. He needed a shave. He needed sleep, and a warm meal, and to shower. But no, here we were, going on hour number three of this. He packed all of our necessary hunting stuff up, dragged us out here, and apparently I am the only sucky one in the family, because Sam is sitting in the back seat of the Impala, doing homework, while Dean is standing against the front door, watching me. That's not helping either, by the way._

_"I _am_ aiming," I groaned as I grabbed a handful of dummy bullets from his outstretched palm. I unclipped the gun and dropped the piece to the ground, before loading the clip._

_Dad instantly scooped up my discarded, empty gun. "What are you doin', Becca?" he sighed._

_"Loading the clip," I told him blankly. And I was, and I know he's not blind, and this is dumb._

_"I meant with this," he stuck the gun in my face._

_I looked up at the gun and then to his eyes as the gentle air swayed the tall grass around us. It was probably going on dinner time, and even though the sun's slowly setting rays were causing the half dead golden color of the grass to glow, I couldn't be bothered to find it even slightly attractive right now. This was annoying, and I was hungry, and why is he still making me do this. Sam and Dean have been done for like, an hour and half – tops. "What about it?" I stuck the last dummy into the clip and then ran my thumb down the edge as I counted the bullets._

_He shifted his weight and shook the gun. "You threw it on the ground."_

_"I can't exactly shoot a gun when it has no bullets, Dad. I didn't need it right now."_

_"And what about when you're out there chasing down some demon? You just gonna throw your gun down on the ground then, Bec? We can't afford for you to not use your head when it comes down to it. We need your focus in the hunt – and if you can't focus during this, how are you going to focus out there?" he was angry. He was abrasive. He was totally blowing this out of proportion. I went to snatch the gun from his hand so that we could freaking end this, and he held it out of my grasp. I glared up at him. "You gotta an answer or not?"_

_I huffed, closed my eyes as I sighed, and I dropped my shoulders. "No, Dad, I'm not going to just go dropping my gun down on the ground when we're out there hunting. First of all, a gun isn't going to stop a demon. Second off, there are no demons around us right now," I used the clip and pivoted in a circle to indicate to the area, "and I don't ever get to go out there and not focus on the hunt, because you don't let me hunt."_

_His voice was suddenly sounding a lot like a very angry Doberman. "That's because you're not focused! You aren't taking this seriously!"_

_"I am too taking this seriously!" I yelled back._

_Great. That was a mistake. He glared down at me and slapped the gun into my hand. "Do it again, now. And do it right. Aim your shot."_

_Snapping the clip into the grip frame, I glared back. He stepped a few feet away as I prepared my stance and narrowed my eyes. I readjusted the gun in my hands, gripping and re-gripping until I was satisfied. I looked down the sights and did a sharp intake of breath before clicking the safety and then gently resting my index finger over the trigger. Breathing out slowly, I applied pressure and allowed my arms to jump as each bullet passed from the hammer, down the barrel, and towards the cardboard target. As my last shot rang throughout the air, I clicked my safety and lowered the gun, bringing my feet together._

_"You missed," I heard from where my father stood._

_"I totally hit that!" I argued as I stretched the gun out to point to the target._

_He was right beside me again, digging more dummy bullets out of the box. "Did you hit the inside circles?" I didn't answer. How was I supposed to know? I'm like, fifty feet away. "Did you hear me?"_

_"I don't know," I sighed._

_"You don't know if you heard me?" he asked disbelievingly._

_"I don't know if I hit the inside circles," I rolled my eyes from where I had quickly glanced at the target, over to his face._

_I followed his gaze back to the cardboard, and saw that there was in fact a single hole in one of the inside circles. Thank God, freaking success, finally. I sighed out of relief and started to slide the clip out of the gun, beyond ready to go back to the motel and pass out on my uncomfortable couch._

_I froze when there was suddenly an outstretched hand, holding dummies, sitting in front of my face. "Again," he stated._

_Holding the clip in one hand, and the gun in the other, I looked up at him. "Are you serious?" I questioned, shocked. I'd just hit the inside circles. Wasn't that my goal for today?_

_His eyes closed for a brief moment, and I knew he was trying not to tear me a new one, whether I deserved it or not is debatable. "I said again," he enunciated in a very struggled voice._

_"I hit the inside circles!"_

_"You were lucky! You need to always hit the inside circles, you can't just hit them once. Now do it again."_

_"We've been doing this for three hours! Can't we just co –"_

_"DAMN IT, BECCA!" he shouted, causing me to jump, and instantly gaining the attention of Sam and Dean who were back at the car. He immediately threw his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched it. "Just load the clip, and try it again."_

_Gripping the clip as tightly as I could in one hand, and the gun in the other, I glared daggers at that stupid hay bale and its stupid cardboard target. Biting my tongue, I saw he was still pinching the bridge of his nose. Scratching his palm as I swiped the dummy bullets from his hand, I shoved them into the clip, snapped it into the grip as quickly as I could, and then lifted the gun, with one hand, aiming for the hay bale. I didn't even give him time to move as I glared down the sights and released the bullets into the cardboard target, my arm jumping and my eyes twitching with each loud bang. There were torn-pride tears slipping over my lids, and my anger was just as hot as the embarrassment I felt after being yelled at. As the last bullet escaped from the gun, I slid the clip out and slapped the now empty gun into his hand. I'd hit the stupid bull's eye with probably not even half of the bullets but I didn't even care. There were two fresh new holes, and I was done. I don't think he really knew what happened as I snapped the clip into the ground and stomped away towards the Impala._

"What happened that day is not important, Sam," I growled. Especially when it ended with me not even making it halfway back to Dean and Sam, and then participating in a large shouting match, and finally a very large flinch when I thought my father would hit me. He didn't, but that hand terrified me. Not one of my better moments. "Besides, I had to learn how to aim that stupid gun. Not that I did, or that I am an any better shot, but I had to try," I spoke the words I'd had drilled into my skull day after day of endless practicing.

"And bow hunting is an important skill," Dean added with finality. What hell, bow hunting? I'd completely forgotten about Sam mentioning bow hunting.

Sam shoved his hands into his pocket and rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he bit angrily. "How was your tour?"

Dean stood up a little straighter after shooting a final look over to Matthew and Larry. "Oh, it was excellent. I'm ready to buy," he grinned, gaining a lighthearted chuckle from both Sam and me. Thank God for Dean Winchester, boys and girls. This guy can win an award for bringing people out of a funk. "So you might be on to something'."

"With the bow hunting?" I pressed, not understanding.

Shooting me a look that made me shrug with innocence, Dean rolled his eyes slightly before shaking his head. "No, Becca. With the _bugs_. Sam might have a point with the bugs. It looks like Dustin Burwash wasn't the first strange death around here."

"What happened?" Sam pushed.

"About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this. Severe allergic reaction to bee stings," he rattled the story off.

Damn, what kind of tour was that? God, we're not even in a fully developed subdivision and the gossip is already spinning around. "More bugs?" I asked timidly.

Nodding, Dean caught my eyes. "More bugs."

"Okay, welp, I'm out. Have fun on this case without me. I'll be on my way to Vegas," I turned and started to walk away and Sam's arm caught me before I could leave our tiny circle.

He shot me a disapproving look and chewed on the bottom corner of his lip. "Becca."

"I don't like bugs," I told him matter-of-factly. "I say we let an exterminator handle this."

"This is our kind of thing," Dean told me. "You know an exterminator won't be able to handle this gig."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't let one try," I whined.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-eight.**

**I told you guys that you would be getting a chapter before Monday for sure, and even though it's technically 12:59 am here Monday morning, I have not gone to bed yet. Therefore, it is still Sunday night in my mind. I win.  
This chapter is shorter than what you are used to, and I really hope that is okay - but I basically just cranked 2/3 of it out since I got home from work. However, the largest part of this chapter is a flashback. I also hope that is okay. It's based off a real life event - mine.  
And I completely didn't proofread. It's late, I'm tired, I have to be up early, and I haven't done all my homework. Sorry. :\**

**Information that will be helpful to know while reading this chapter!**  
**Town names:  
Kaukauna (Pronouced Kuh-kawna).  
Hayward (Pronounced Hay-wurd).  
Merrill (Pronounced Mare-ull).  
I don't know about you, but I enjoy knowing the correct pronunciations of things when I read them, and very often people mispronounce Wisconsin town/city names; so I thought I'd throw that out there.**

**I don't know when I will get another chapter out, so please hang tight! I appreciate each and every person who reads this. You cannot even imagine. With that said, extra thanks to those who take the time to review/PM/add. I really do love it. I try to PM each of you back, but if you are a guest, that is impossible, so just know that if I could - I would. Promise.**

**Thanks to Jenmm31 for the help. I don't know what I would do without her sometimes. Go read her story guys, show her love.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**  
**And don't forget, you can now follow me on Twitter. I say some fun things on there once in a while. TwitterID: babyhandasaurus**

**Disclaimer.**  
**Songs:  
****_Posion_ - Alice Cooper  
_Heard it Through the Grapevine_ - Creedance Clearwater Revival.****  
**

* * *

All right. So, apparently I am clueless to the things that create what are considered the logical answers that make up the world that my oldest brother, Dean Winchester, lives in. I mean, I can usually understand his theories and half-wit schemes or thoughts, but this, this just wasn't making sense at all. Here's the rundown, people. I am twenty-two, just like Sam. I am Dean's sibling, just like Sam. I was taught to drive, just like Sam. And I effing know the importance of the Impala when it comes to Dean, just like Sam. So, why, for the love of Peter Pan, can I not drive this car!? Sure, I drive it one time by myself, and I hit a deer. Is that why? Because, I'm pretty sure we both watched Sam drive it into a house. Yes, a house. Okay, okay, so when I had my accident I broke a lot more than just a headlight, but it really wasn't my fault. That deer committed deer-cide. Seriously.

_"I want to love you but I better not touch (don't touch)  
I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop  
I want to kiss you but I want it too much (too much)  
I want to taste…"_

_"… taste you but your lips are venomous poison…" I was singing loudly to stereo as I sped down the country highway. The driver side windows were open, my pulled back hair was bobbing along with my head and a few strands blew in the quick rush of the wind. Tapping my fingers along to the beat of the song, I continued to belt out the words as I glanced over to the clock. 5:28 pm. Okay, two more hours and I will finally, and hopefully, be at the motel. My brothers had gone along on a hunt with my father, four hours away from where we had been. It hadn't started out four hours away, but they chased the monster down, and didn't want me to follow until they were sure that I'd be safe. They hadn't even decided that they needed to stay in this faraway town until Sam had gotten beat up a bit to the point where they wouldn't all fit comfortably fit in the truck while Sam slept. Apparently he was pretty worn out. Regardless, it left me with the Impala, and the amazing trust that I could actually prove myself and make it from point A to point B, without having to be watched over like some child. This was my moment, and I was totally dwelling in it, and I was going to be a beast at it. It also meant that I could drive as fast as I wanted, sing as loud as I wanted, to whatever I wanted. I quickly checked all of my mirrors, like you're supposed to, and I grimaced as my eyes landed on the rear view and I saw that stupid, overly buffed truck behind me. It had been shining its lights into my mirror for the last forty-five minutes, and I was really getting annoyed. Especially with the sun's lighting as it set in the distance. The wheat field next to me looked like a complete sea of light brown color, and it all seemed to gloss over as the rays bounced off of the wheat stalks and towards my eyes. There were no houses, just wheat on my left and an empty field on my right. I inhaled the smell of the country, exhaled, and tried to block the truck's lights as they found their way into my driver side mirror. Holding my hand so that my fingertips just reached the black of the mirror, my entire body jumped as a large deer appeared out of the wheat field and directly in front of the Impala. I screamed and braced myself for the impact that immediately followed. Hitting the hind leg of the deer, I screamed again as the animal spun, and then crashed into the passenger side of the car, its face dragging along both of my windows, leaving a trail of slime. Slamming on the breaks and pulling off to the side, I began to panic as I groped next to me for the small cell phone._

_Trying to steady my breathing, the only thing I could think to do was call Sam, hurt or not, I needed to call him. Quickly shoving my finger into my number three button, I prayed that he would answer. I heard the line pick up and an aggravated groan rang out beside a muffled, "What?"_

_"OH MY GOD I JUST HIT A DEER!" I yelled into the phone._

_"Right," I heard him huff before he hissed in pain. I just assumed he was resituating himself on the bed. "What do you want, Becca?"_

_I groaned as I ran a hand through my hair. "Sam, I'm not even kidding right now. I just freaking hit a deer, and I mean, a real deer, and I don't know what to do," I explained as quickly as I could._

_Sam's voice was suddenly a little more concerned and I don't know if he suddenly forgot about his pain to focus on me, but there was urgency and less struggle as he spoke. "Where are you?"_

_I sniffed and I shot my eyes around, as if there would be some sort of sign or something to tell me where I was. There wasn't. A sudden tapping on the frame of my door caused me to jump, and I looked over to see two men standing there, eyeing the car. "Hang on, Sam," I instructed as I pulled the phone away from my ear and tucked the mouthpiece into my collar. "Yeah?" I glanced over to the rear view and saw that the monster sized truck that had been following me, was parked right behind the Impala._

_"You didn't see that deer?" he grinned down at me, resting an arm on the roof of the car as he chuckled through his words._

_"Did you?" I innocently asked him with round eyes. Clearly I hadn't seen the deer. If I had seen the deer, do you think I would have done _this_ to the Impala, knowing that with it now fully belonging to Dean that I could and probably will now die? I'm totally done for._

_He shook his head and looked up at his friend. "No." I narrowed my eyes up to him. If you didn't see the deer in your giant truck that could roll right over the back of the Impala, while your lights are blinding me from behind as the sun is blinding me both from the front and from the reflection of the wheat, and you're going to really freaking ask if I saw the suddenly appearing deer? Morons. I found myself suddenly agitated at more than just me and the dumb deer. "If you wanna pop the hood, we can take a look at it for ya, check out the damage… sound okay?"_

_I slowly nodded my head, skeptically. I knew that Dean wouldn't be too happy with strangers doing that, but I think that this calls for drastic measures. Doing as the man asked, I brought the phone back up to my ear. "Hello?" I chanced, hoping that Sam hadn't hung up._

_"What's going on?" The voice on the line was different from before. It was gruff, rough, and tired._

_Sighing heavily into the mouthpiece, I rubbed a small hand up and down my face. "This stupid deer just appeared out of nowhere. I promise. I was paying attention and everything. Checking my mirrors, focusing on the road, driving a little more towards the center of the lanes for more room to swerve, and then it just jumped out of the wheat, Dad. I really didn't mean to do it. I swear I was being careful… It just, just out of nowhere! I'm so sorry," I felt defensive as I rattled through the accident._

_"Are you hurt?"_

_I started to shake my head while also trying to convince myself. "No, I don't think so. Just, just really freaked out. Dad, I -"_

_The two men were suddenly at the window, signaling to me that apparently we needed to talk. "You gotta sec?" the same guy from before asked. Nodding to him, I told my dad to hang on for moment while the man informed me of what he'd found. "You're not gonna make it very far with that radiator, it's completely cracked. You've lost all your antifreeze, and the one side's not even attached anymore. You go more than a few miles, and you're gonna over heat, and that could be the least of your worries."_

_"Oh… Well that's just awesome," I grumbled as Dean's voice was suddenly in my mind, yelling about how I'm never driving the Impala again._

_The man chuckled before smiling at his friend and then back down to me. "Well, where are you coming from?"_

_"Kaukauna."_

_"Oh, damn. Where are you headed?"_

_"Hayward." I heard my father swear at me from his end of the call, for telling this to these men, but I ignored it. They'd helped me so far, I was not about to turn down any further help they were willing to give._

_The man whistled and stuck his hands in his pockets while he turned to face his friend with that clenched teeth, open mouthed face. "You're screwed, miss. There's no way you can make it."_

_I frowned. I already knew this. I knew I was halfway between point A and point B, and I suddenly felt like I'd completely let my father down. "Thanks for that."_

_The men both chuckled. "So what are you gonna do? Do you need us to take you into town or something?"_

_My dad's voice was suddenly in my ear. "Becca, I want you to drive as far as you can into town, and find a gas station. Pull over, and wait for us, all right? Dean and I are gonna come get you. You don't talk to anyone, you got it?"_

_I sat up a little straighter as I took in this order, nodding once in acceptance. "Yes, sir."_

_"You call me when you park."_

_"Yes, sir," I ended the call and looked up at the two waiting men. "I'm okay. Thank you," I told them, trying to leave out as much of my instructed information as I could. I turned the key in the ignition, signaling to them that I was going to quickly move on, and try to do what my father had just told me to do._

_Before I could shift the car into drive, the man clapped the door, bringing my eyes from the road to him. "Did you wanna see the deer?"_

_Is this guy insane? Did I want to see the animal that just signed my death warrant? No, because then I might try to trade places with it. And judging from the way the thing slimed half the car, I was definitely not interested in seeing the damage I had done to it. Shaking my head and biting my lower lip, I thanked the men, and shifted into drive before slowly pulling back out onto the highway. I watched as the men walked to the side of the road, and I pulled my eyes from the rear view back to the empty stretch of road._

_Even as the radio played, all I could hear was the tapping of the broken radiator as it bounced against where it should have been connected. Taking the turn of the road slower than I normally would have, I suddenly cringed as I ran through the accident again in my head, and came to realize that I could have hurt a million times more – maybe even killed. My whole body shook with the thought, and goose bumps covered my skin. Then a sob got stuck in my throat. I could have died, just like that deer. And my family wouldn't even know, until I didn't show up in Hayward. They would be sitting there, waiting, and I would just never come. I just did that to a deer family. I just stopped a deer from finding his way home to his family that might be four hours away, waiting. Tears ran down my cheeks as I continuously called myself a murderer and horrible person over and over again in my head. Wiping the tears from my lids so that I could see clearly, I shot my eyes to the hood. There was smoke pouring out past where the hood closed on the front end of the car. My hand instantly flew to the heater and I turned up the temperature, as high as I could, and then flipped the fan to high. I felt like I was going to melt in this Wisconsin summer heat that was now mixed with the quickly rising warmth inside the car. At least Dean would be glad to know that I remembered some of the things he told me about how to make sure not to "murder his baby". It seemed like forever before I finally made it all the way into some town called Merrill, and pulled into the first gas station I saw… It had only been like, thirty minutes. Tops. Something told me that it wasn't exactly good that I drove that far with the Impala in this type of condition, but I was following orders._

_I killed the engine and pulled my phone back up, suddenly shaky as I stuck my thumb into the button and waited for the call to start connecting. "Becca?" Sam's voice was on edge, and very expectant – like he'd been staring at the phone until I'd finally called._

_"Um, I'm parked, Sam. I'm in Merrill, and at the Phillips 66 station here. It's combined with some Subway or whatever. Have Dad and Dean left yet?"_

_I heard Sam hiss as he moved on the bed. "They're leaving now, Bec. Are you sure you are okay?"_

_Nodding my head, I pushed back the tears of anger back. I couldn't believe how angry I was that I'd hit a deer. What kind of person was I? I could handle the idea of killing a monster no problem – but that was because it was a monster. Monsters deserved to die. That deer was innocent. Before I knew what I was doing, I was exhaling deeply and I heard myself sniff. "Sam?" I choked out._

_"Are you crying?"_

_"Shut up," I growled through a shaky breath. There was a bit of silence before I started again. "Sam… I killed that deer," I told him quietly._

_I could practically see the eye roll on the other end of the line. "It was an accident. It's not like you went tearing through the wheat field searching for him, did you?"_

_"No."_

_"Okay, and you didn't go on some whack-a-mole mission, trying to pop off any deer in your path, did you?"_

_I chuckled at the thought of me trying to whack-a-mole a herd of deer with the Impala. "No, Sam. I didn't try to whack-a-mole anything. I just, what if he was on his way home to his deer family, and now they're waiting to eat their deer dinner but they won't get to eat it because the dad deer won't come home, and now the baby deer have no dad deer to –"_

_"Becca!" Sam's voice cut in through my rambling. "Relax. Just turn on the radio and breathe. Dad and Dean will be there in like, three hours, maybe less with how fast Dad drives. Try not to think about it. It was just an accident. And to be honest, right now," I heard him groan through clenched teeth before he continued, "if you're not hurt, I'm not really concerned about anything else."_

_I chewed on my lower lip as I heard him grunting as he moved around the motel room. "What about you, are you okay?"_

_He was drinking out of water bottle, and I could tell from the crinkling of the plastic. "Just sore. I'll be fine. Don't think about that either."_

_"Sam that's not fa –"_

_"I'm serious. You're already worked up enough. The last thing we need is for Dad and Dean to come up and find you passed out or in some fetal position because you've worked yourself up to having a breakdown or panic attack or something. Just, lay down on the seat, and turn on the radio, and try to get some sleep. Okay? If something happens, call me back. Or Dean, whoever. You got a gun?"_

_Rolling my eyes and turning myself so that I was resting against the door, I grimaced. "I'm in the Impala, Sam. It's a full arsenal… I don't even think I could be much more prepared for anything."_

_I am almost sure I'd made him smile, and that made me feel better. If Sam could smile through his pain, then I could smile through mine. Even if his is way worse than mine. "Good," his voice was a little more chipper. "Now I want you to tell me you're going to try and get some sleep."_

_"But –"_

_"Becca."_

_I huffed and slouched against the door. "Okay, fine. You win. I will try and sleep. I promise."_

_Hearing Sam grunt and then a soft pounding, I assumed he was preparing himself for his own desperately needed sleep. "Good," he yawned._

_"But you better promise that if you need something, then you're gonna call me. Don't go pretending you're fine when you're dying. Got it?"_

_"Got it."_

_"Good. Thanks, Sam."_

_Sam's voice was gravely as he pulled the phone away from his mouth for a moment, but still spoke. "You're welcome. Go to sleep."_

_And with that, the phone call ended. Clicking the phone shut, I stuck my tongue in my cheek and stared ahead of me, straight at the passenger window, that was covered in slime. Sweet. Clicking the key so that the battery was on, I leaned on the steering wheel, listening to the song, and staring straight ahead into the now gray dusty colored scenery._

_"You could have told me yourself that you found someone else.  
Instead, I heard it through the grapevine not much longer would you be mine.  
Ooh, I heard it through the grapevine and I'm just about to lose my mind."_

_I froze and slowly lifted my head, pushing it further towards the windshield when a car passed by, quickly driving down the highway that laid out in front of the gas station, and its headlights reflected off of six orbs that were standing across the highway, staring directly at the Impala. My breath caught in my throat, and I squinted, trying to figure out what it was those orbs belonged to. Leaning over to the glove box, I snapped it open and grabbed the handgun that was buried beneath maps and IDs. Pulling out the clip and checking it, I clicked it back up into the grip and pulled back the slide before I cranked open the door and stepped closer to the edge of the Impala's front end. A truck drove by this time, illuminating the figure, or figure_s_ that were watching my every move. There were three, giant sized deer, standing next to each other, staring me down. Holy crap, I think this is the deer mafia and I killed their mob boss. Lowering my gun and fixing it so that nothing would shoot me in the foot if I pulled the trigger, I kept my eyes on the deer as I reentered the car. Now I am being stalked by killer deer. This night is not turning out well. I saw my phone sitting on the dash, where I'd left it, and immediately wanted to call Sam, but I knew that he needed his own rest. Such a freaking debacle, right!?_

_No. I promised Sam I would try to sleep… so I will in fact, try to sleep. Laying myself down on the seat, I stared up at the roof of the car. There is no way I am sleeping with killer deer after me. And I'm sure if I burn up this stupid battery, Dean will be more than willing to feed me to the deer. Turning the car off all the way, I wrapped my arms around me tightly and continued to lay there, listening to the few cars that passed by the gas station as the night grew darker and darker around me. I don't know how long it took for me to finally drift off and fall asleep, all I do know is that there was a loud crunching noise and I suddenly shot up, coming face to face with stubbly faced father of mine. I sighed out of relief as he scanned my body for any damage and then I was taken back when he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to his chest, squeezing me tightly. Dude, I was definitely not the only one who thought I could have died. When he let me go, I was now standing outside of the car. I turned to face a very upset Dean, and I opened my mouth to apologize before he just shoved past me and popped the Impala's hood. There was a lot of muttering and words I didn't really understand as Dean and my dad talked about the car and the damage I had caused. Jumping when the hood finally slammed shut, Dean came around to where I was standing._

_"Get in the truck, you're riding with Dad," he told me sternly._

_"Dean, I'm really sorry about your car. I'll pay you back. I promise," I tried to reason with him, but he wasn't having it. His brows and eyes narrowed so much that I could hardly even say they were there anymore. Moving to the truck as Dean wrenched open the driver door, I slowly climbed in next to my father. I clicked my seat belt into place as my dad shifted the truck into reverse and then slowly followed Dean out of the gas station. "Hey," I said, causing my dad to look at me in wonder, "those are the guys that helped me out before," I pointed to the large monster truck sized vehicle that was parked directly in front of the store. The men were working on something that was in the bed of their truck, and they stopped to watch as the Impala left the parking lot and made its way onto the highway, followed by the truck._

Clearly most everyone in my family understood that it was an accident that I wrecked the Impala. Everyone except Dean. How many years have to go by before the guy forgives you? That happened when I was seventeen, and it was my first big road trip alone. Well, big in the sense that I was driving from one Wisconsin town to another. It's not like it was across state lines or anything, but I still say it qualifies. I was griping in the backseat while _Sam_ drove the car and Dean flipped through the leather bound journal. My how the tables have turned, brothers. Next thing you know, Sam will be trying to sidle up to girls and get their numbers while Dean pats everyone on the back and offers out consoling hugs.

"Have you found anything in there yet, Dean?" I sighed as I leaned forward and crossed my arms, setting them on the back of the front seat.

"No," he closed the book and set it down in the middle of the seat. "You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that could make different bugs attack?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. "Are you serious? They're bugs, Dean. I'm like ninety-three percent sure that it is the M.O. of all bugs to kill human beings. Bugs are evil, they must be destroyed. It's a total small thing complex with a side of vengeance," I explained my theory to him. If you ask me, it makes total sense. Bugs kill because they don't want to be killed. It's probably totally some circle of Darwin whatevernism. Sam can straighten it all out for you later if you need specifics. Just don't ask him to go into a _lot_ of detail unless you want to be taking notes. He will lecture you, and he will use big words. Make sure you have a dictionary handy.

"Hey, hauntings sometimes include bug manifestations," Sam suggested.

Nodding, I took this in. Dean didn't. "Yeah, but I didn't see any evidence of ghost activity?"

"Me either," I added after I'd thought about it. Dean and Sam both turned to look at me, confused. "What? I was there, remember? Sam saved my life, I tried to end Dean's, Dean tried to end mine, bug down the shirt…"

"You stripping on the street," Dean added with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes I leaned back against the seat. "I wasn't _stripping_, I was _debugging_ myself. If you hadn't shoved me into the pit of doom, none of that would have even happened."

He shrugged as acted like none of this even mattered. "I wanted to see if two people could fit in the pit."

"So why didn't _you_ go down there?"

"Oh, yeah, like you're gonna be able to pull Sam and me out of there or somethin'. You can hardly drag yourself out of bed in the morning."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. That is completely different. "Hey! That's not fair. You slept in just as late as me until Sam came back. He's the freak who gets up with the sun. Don't try and play the blame game on me."

Sam cleared his throat, dragging both Dean's and my eyes to him, where he was doing his "_are you serious, I can't even come up with an answer_" smile, and holding a hand in the air as he spoke. "Maybe they're being controlled somehow. You know, by something or someone."

Well, just cut right to the chase why don't you? "Wait, like Willard? The rat guy from that old movie or whatever?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but bugs instead of rats."

This is dumb. "There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals – elementals, telepaths," Sam informed us.

"Yeah, that whole Timmy-Lassie thing," Dean added.

Kind of like that weirdo Matthew kid and that giant, "TARANTULA!" I shouted as the thought bubbled to the surface of my mind.

"What?" Dean and Sam asked at the same time.

"Stop doing that. And that Matthew kid. Larry, the socially accepting person's son. He had that overgrown, fuzzy, spider, monster, pet thing. Maybe he's the Timmy to the man-eating spider's Lassie," I suggested.

Sam and Dean contemplated this. "You think she's right? That he could be our Willard?" Dean asked Sam.

Not seeming convinced, Sam sort of shrugged and his tone totally said that he didn't want to believe it. "I don't know. Anything's possible, I guess."

"Ooh, hey. Pull over here," Dean instructed as he pointed to a driveway.

Dude, I hope this place has furniture. I COULD HAVE MY OWN BED TONIGHT, PEOPLE! Do you understand how majorly epic and astounding me having my own bed could be? You sleep on a couch almost every night of your life after turning eleven and getting your first week of "leaking girl crap". Yeah, the brother you once shared a bed with? He's convinced that you will contaminate him, and you are hereby booted to the couch. I don't know how the heck that is even fair, but that is my life.

"What are we doing here?" Sam questioned, annoyed as Dean got out of the car and walked towards the garage door.

"It's too late to talk to anybody else," Dean answered as he lifted the door and signaled for Sam to pull the car ahead.

He didn't. He just sat there, with the car running. "We're gonna squat in an empty house?"

"I wanna try the steam shower. Come on," Dean ordered.

Sam still didn't move. Instead he turned around to face me. "You're okay with this? You know the rules, Becca, majority wins."

I put on a fake, sympathetic face and grabbed Sam's shoulder, frowning as I did so. "Sam, I know where you're coming from, but I'm about to have my own bed. And majority only wins if you pick Dean's side. Now go."

"Come on!" Dean seethed from where he stood waiting. I grinned and bounced in my seat as Sam finally pulled ahead into the garage before Dean closed the door and checked to make sure no one noticed what we'd done.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-nine.**

**Wow. Please take the oodles of apologies I am throwing out here to you guys. I have just NOT had time to write this week. Therefore, I legit just wrote this ENTIRE thing for you TONIGHT. Well, last night into today. I wanted to get you a chapter that bad. I feel horrible that I took so long. Please, forgive me.  
I do not want to promise that you will be receiving another chapter this weekend, because honestly, I haven't even gotten a chance to start homework - that's how intense my life has been. And I know that if I go and promise you a chapter, and I don't get it out, I will just beat myself up about it. Therefore I will promise that I will totally TRY and work on another chapter to get out as soon as I possibly can.**

**A MILLION thanks to all the reviewers/PMers/adders/readers! The dedication you all have, even when I can't get a chapter out, astounds me. You're all my heroes/heroines. I cannot express my true gratitude. You amaze me so much. I'm in awe.**

**Thanks to Jenmm31 for her help. You know the drill. Head on over to her page and read, review, and send her some ideas. She loves you just as much as I do; so show her how much you guys care.**

**With that being said, I hope this chapter is up to all of your expectations. Also, I did indeed proofread; however, take into account that it is 4 am and I may have missed one, two, seventy-six things.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**  
**Movies: _Sixteen Candles.  
_****I also reference brand names in here that I have no ownership or relation or anything to do with.****_  
_**

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I chanted as I shook my face into the pillow and clutched onto the mattress beneath me. My arms were spread out on my sides, to the edges of the large bed, and my nails were digging into the material so hard that it actually hurt. I clenched my teeth as I felt the grip around my ankles tighten, and then suddenly my body was hovering off of the mattress as I continued to hold on for dear life. Dropping back to the bed, my face sunk into the pillow, but I dared not release my hands.

This had been heaven, and I was enjoying it way too much to end it now. In fact, I was enjoying it so much that there had been a beach, a hammock, a pure white piña colada, and a very tan, very strong, very yummy man lying next to me as we slowly swayed in the warm island air. However, that had been a dream. A beautiful, magical, warm, blush causing dream. And it ended. Why did it end? Well, see, I have this brother; who is a pain in my butt. And he whipped my blankets off of me, so there went my warmth. Then he was yammering on about some stupid police scanner business – interrupting my quiet, peaceful, blissful, relaxing, beach adventure. And then he was trying to force me from my first bed since I've seen his ugly mug. Do you know the last time I got a bed? When my dad ditched me. That's right. I only got a bed when Dean or my dad wasn't there. And that's not too often. I'm seriously never alone, well, like I am, during the day because I am a crap hunter; but at night – when sleeping hours are most important, I'm very often surfing it up in Sofa City. Regardless. My dream had been interrupted. My sweet slumber had been ended before my body decided it needed be. And I was now holding onto the mattress like a spider monkey while Sam pulled on my ankles like the claw machine versus Woody in _Toy Story_. This was already obnoxious.

"Becca… let's… go!" Sam bit as he tugged on my ankles, raising my body off of the mattress again.

Groaning as he dropped me onto the bed once more, I turned my face so that I could see the wall away from me. "No! Go away, dream crusher! Let me sleep!" I yelled to him, digging my nails even farther into the material.

Sam ran a hand over his face as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and grew even more impatient with me. "Come on, we gotta go check out that call. Someone died, Becca, and you'd rather just sleep?"

He couldn't see it, but I was totally giving him my "_are you freaking kidding me right now, just shut up_" face. "I don't see it being beneficial if I go and try to solve some case when I haven't gotten a full night's rest. No sleep makes for a cranky Becca. I may or may not go all Godzilla on the town if you make me leave now. Besides, I'm gonna wanna shower."

"Just get up, you can shower when we get back, okay? Now, move!" Sam was now trying to pry my right hand off of the mattress, and he was totally winning.

My hand snapped up, and I could see the look of accomplishment spread all through his eyes and end down to his smile. Horror crossed my face and I struggled to release my one hand while re-gripping the mattress with my other one and trying to use my feet to anchor myself closer to bed. "Sam, why don't you go bother Dean, huh? He's gonna be a bigger problem anyway. I can handle my body's funk, but that guy…"

"Ugh, Dean," I saw recognition flash in Sam's eyes as he groaned before his hands dropped mine back down, and his big feet clunked their way out of the room.

Holy crap. Is he gone? I peered over my shoulder to double check the doorway, and Sam was indeed absent from it. I moved at the speed of lightening. I was quickly off of the bed, and then back on it a second time, wrapped up in my newly made, plush, comforter cocoon. I bet if you looked at me right now, all you would see was my face, peaking out, listening to Sam's one sided conversation in the hall.

"Dean, a police call came in on the scanner… Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on," Sam stopped and I heard a door open.

"This shower is awesome," Dean told Sam.

I rolled my eyes, and snuggled deeper into the bed and its blanket. "Come on," Sam told him. "I'm gonna need your help getting Becca out of bed. She's about as in love with that thing, as you are with that car."

Footsteps were nearing my doorway, and I felt my entire body tense out of instinct. You never know what to do when these two are around, and I don't know why, but I really feel like they are just brutal to me sometimes. "Sammy, that is not just a _car_," Dean was telling him as they both walked into the room I'd adopted. I immediately started laughing at Dean. There was a towel wrapped around the top of his head, and he was looking very _pleased_ with himself. "What?" he questioned with a confused face as I continued to cause the cocoon to shake with the laughs rolling through my body.

"What's with the towel? You have like, next to no hair!" I chuckled as I pulled the blanket tighter to me.

Dean grimaced and lifted a brow, one of his hands making their way to the towel wrapped around his hair. Before I could blink, it was off of his head, and covering my face. And it was damp, and smelled of shampoo. Well, at least he's freshly cleaned. I just really hoped he'd used this towel for _strictly_ his hair. Nudging and twisting my face so that the towel fell and was lying more in front of me than on me, I glared up at him. "Get up, freak. We gotta case to check out," he instructed as Sam looked doubtful.

I shrugged in my wrap. "Go without me."

"Trust me," Dean smiled, "I'd love to; but Sam here, whew. This guy sorta thinks we _need_ you or something. So, because I don't wanna hear him bitch like a little girl this early in the morning, you're comin' with us. Now move."

What a bunch of bull. I'm not about to just _move_ because Dean got kicked out of the shower and Sam thinks all three of us need to be there. And I didn't move. Instead I snuggled in deeper and stuck my tongue out at him. Dean waved me off and I saw Sam not understand as Dean turned and signaled for them to leave the room. Suck it, Sam. Now, Imma lay here and do what I do best. Ignore your two overgrown selves, and Imma sleep 'til noon. I heard the thudding of their feet against the carpet, and I smiled before attempting to drift back off to dream land. You would think that having grown up with Tweedle Dee and Dum over here, that I would know better. But I don't. I'm a complete idiot. Why did I just assume that they would leave the house without me? Because that's not what happened. No. What happened was, that instead of them actually letting me sleep, I was picked up like a giant burrito, and carried, like a dead body through the house and down to the Impala where I was then stuffed into the backseat and buckled in so intricately that I don't even know how they did it. Now, I don't know if you remember me telling you that I was wrapped up like a cocoon, but I was, so by them buckling me into the seat, I couldn't freaking get out. I was laying here, face up, staring at the roof of the Impala while these two went back to 'get our gear'. I was instantly regretting the cocoon decision.

They finally climbed into the car, and Sam looked down at me, from where he was looking over the back of the seat, so that he could back out of the garage while Dean held the door open. So not only am I sitting back here like a mummy, but I still don't get to drive the car. This is not freaking fair. Dean got into the car, and instead of being a normal person and just sitting there, facing the front, he was instead on his knees, smiling down at me.

"I hate you," I grumbled as I struggled to lift my head and glare at him.

"You love me," he argued with a smirk.

Shaking my head, the best I could, I shrugged inside my blanket. "I'm pretty sure I don't."

Dean shrugged and turned to the front of the car when Sam cut into the conversation with a '_Hey, check it out_.' They were both quiet as they watched whatever was going on outside the car, and I felt the car shift and then the vibration beneath my back ended. I sighed as the front doors crunched open and then slammed shut, and I wiggled my toes as I patiently waited for someone to open one of my doors and free me. Any minute now. Yep. It won't be Dean who saves me, because he's Dean. So it's gonna be Sam. In five… four… three… two… one… WHAT THE HELL!? Why are my doors still closed? Why is there no Sam unbuckling me? Why am I still wrapped up like a sub sandwich back here? COME ON. I twisted. I turned. I pulled. I pushed. I kicked. I tugged. Nothing. What is this blanket a straight jacket in disguise? What is this nonsense? Wait a second. My right hand was loosening up, and I could feel its freedom coming on quickly. Just a little more. I bit the side of my tongue and closed my eyes in concentration as I tried to work my hand out of the tangle of blankets it'd become trapped in. Just as my hand was about to make it all the way out of the comforter, a voice came through the window, and I jumped as my hand snapped out, successfully colliding with my chin. Awesome. "You better not be getting all in your lady business back here." That's the line that caused me to jump and smack myself. Thanks, Dean.

I groaned and reached my hand around the lump of blanket and finally figured out how to unbuckle this tangled mess they'd confined me to. "I'm not getting in all in my lady business, you freak," I rubbed at my chin as I attempted to wiggle my cocoon out of the seatbelts. "Can you help me sit up, please?"

"Say you love me," he teased.

This asshole. Is he seriously gonna make me say that? I looked to the window that sat next to where his head was sticking into the car, and then up towards the window at my head, and Sam was nowhere to be found. "I'm not saying that," I grumbled as I tried to use my hand to pull myself up, while at the same time trying to move off of the edges of the blanket that were tucked underneath my body. If you think that I could have one successful moment of salvaging dignity while trying to prove a point to my brother, you'd be just as silly minded as I am. Because instead of being as smooth as silk, I did free myself… from the seat, and straight into the small space that was the floor between the two seats. I couldn't help but cry out in frustration as Dean laughed loudly while I just unfortunately continued to wedge myself deeper into the space. "Deeeeeeeeeean," my muffled voice came from where my face was buried against Sam's rough book bag. "I loooooooooooooove you," I whined as he started to choke and cough on his laughter.

* * *

I think I have book bag burn on my face. It hurts that bad. Dean did finally help me untangle myself from the blanket, but he made sure to snap a few photos on his phone… and then called Sam over to do the same. I don't know which one is worse. The one where I am dangling from a window? Nah, it's probably the one where I unknowingly had the words 'Crab Shack' across my forehead from when I'd fallen asleep outside, and Dean used sunscreen to 'protect me from Melanoma'. No, no. I know. It was for sure the one from when I walked around the diner with the pore strip stuck to my nose because I forgot. Yep. That one definitely outdid this one right now, of me, face down and stuck between the seats of the Impala, looking like an albino burrito. All I'm saying is that this guy has too many black mail photos of me, and I do not have enough to counteract. We must figure out a way to change this. Well, not now, because we're waiting for Matt, but eventually. We will figure this out. I was too busy picking at a jagged nail that I'd ripped, to notice that Matt had gotten off of his school bus and was now walking anywhere.

"Isn't his house that way?" Dean's voice drew my eyes up from my fingernail that I was trying to fix, to where he was pointing… And Matthew was definitely walking the other way.

"You stalkin' underage boys now, Dean?" I questioned, switching my eyes from the kid to my nail and back repeatedly. Dean adjusted his shoulders in his jacket and grumbled a '_shut up_' while Sam just nodded and replied '_yep_' to Dean's question. Actually, he didn't specify who he was talking to, so it might have actually been to my question. That's way creepy. Do you know how many times I've had a soiled mind since we started this case? Both figurative and literal? I got people suggesting my brothers are romantically involved, then I got my brother playing into it, then I have a hopefully fresh towel thrown in my face, and then I finally get free from the Impala, only to find that there was a dirty sock, against my forehead… Now my brother may or may not be stalking teenage boys. I'm totally going to need a counselor soon. "All right, since you two know his daily schedule – which is a totally different, yet scary, issue – where's he going?"

No answers. Not _vocal_ answers anyways. They just both got out of the car, leaving me to follow them. And would you look at where the freaking heck they are headed? THE MUTHA FUGGEN WOODS. That's right. I'm about to get eaten by a wendingo… again. If Dean goes missing, we don't even have M&Ms to follow. Imma just leave him here this time though. As the guys made their way into the woods, I quickly caught up. I'm not about to be separated, are you nuts? That's total _Bad News Bears_. And do you know what bug boy was doing when we finally found him? He was watching the biggest bug I have ever seen, in all my life. And do you know what kind of bug it was? The scariest kind! A grasshopper. First of all, they are too scary. What the heck can jump that high?! It's totally unnatural, and we should be carrying around bottles of Raid to wipe out the entire species. Second, why the HELL is that thing the size of my head!? Dude, are the bugs in Oklahoma on steroids or something? This is so nauseating. Ugh, I hate bugs _so_ much right now. Well, not just now, but all the time. Now specifically though, because that grasshopper is probably thinking of fifty ways to eat me. Gross.

"Hey, Matt. Remember me?" Sam called out as we neared Matt, causing him to jump.

Matt turned to face us, shock all over his face before he turned back around and started watching that monster of a grasshopper again. "What are you doin' out here?"

Freaking, not looking for bugs you weird freak. I stood behind my brothers, making sure that if the grasshopper launched itself towards us that I was able to duck either left or right without being hit. Sometimes the guys just gotta take one for the team. "Oh, you know," I tried to sound _not_ freaked out as I continued to watch the bug, "pickin' out fabric for our new couch covers and what not…"

"We wanna talk to you," Dean sighed as I sarcastically responded.

"You're not here to buy a house, are you?" Matt asked with a small smile as Dean shook his head. Well, someone gets an A plus for participation. Good work, Matt. You clearly figured out our ploy. "W-wait. You're not serial killers?"

Was that a legitimate question, or was he still not sure? Come on now. Do we really come off as scary, 'we know how to make your body disappear' type people? Dean, maybe, but me? I'm as innocent now as the day I was born. You can see it in my eyes. They haven't seen nothin'. "No, no. No, I think you're safe," Sam assured him. Don't go telling people not to fear us. We're not just cuddly kittens over here or anything. I may be innocent, and we may _not_ be actual serial killers, but by telling someone we aren't, I lose badass points – and after my blanket burrito, sock in the face incident, I need all the badass points I can get.

Dean stepped forward. "So, Matt… you sure know a lot about insects."

"So?"

"So, lemme break it down for you, bug boy. That Lynda realtor lady died this morning… she was bit by like a billion million spiders," I told him. I could see this was going to be a bit more difficult that I'd figured. He was _not_ catching onto my blaming him. "Dude." He still wasn't getting it. "You were trying to send your giant, bird eating, spider, pet, thing on her."

Mat rolled his eyes and then it hit him. "Wait. You think I had something to do with that?" Ding, ding, ding. Finally. I'm taking back my A plus from earlier. This kid was not grasping the concept as quickly as he had been before. That's slacker work, Matt. Get focused. Geez la wheeze.

I shrugged as though it could in fact be him, and Dean got all stern faced and nodded his head slightly, becoming serious. "You tell us." Yeah, you tell us! The quicker we get an answer, the quicker I get away from the giant bugs in the woods, and then out of the woods altogether.

"That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy," Matt defended.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, '_That tarantula was a joke_.'?! What are you nuts?!" I exclaimed just as Sam, in a much more relaxed, shocked manner asked, "You know about those?"

Why do I get the feeling that Sam and I need to have a Pow-Wow about the importance of things on a hunt? OBVIOUSLY we need to focus on this kid thinking that it's a joke to serve humans to spiders; and not the fact that he knows the rumors that fly around this suburban community. God, I mean, half of them probably think Sam and Dean are on their way to getting married while Sam's sister tags along as some 'fake girlfriend' or something. Oh God, I feel like I just sinned. I've now included myself in their fake romance. Did I say I was nauseous before? I may need a bucket now. Double gross. "There is somethin' going on here," Matt explained. It took every ounce of me to _not_ say, '_Ya fuggen think_?' and I think I should get a cookie for being so polite. "I don't know what…" Matt continued, "but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something." He then grabbed his book bag and took off deeper into the woods, Sam right on his heels. Well, the nerds will unite.

Dean looked at me and shrugged, and I felt my body shudder as he nodded for me to follow deeper into the woods. I hate bugs. I hate woods. I hate bugs in the woods. This Matt kid better have some dynamite information, dragging me out here and away from my snuggly bed. Asshole. "So, if you knew about all this bug stuff, why not tell your dad?" I heard Sam asking from where he was a couple paces ahead of Dean and me. "Maybe he could clear everybody out."

"Believe me, I've tried," Matt sighed with a bitter tone. "But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me." Here we go with the first name thing again. Look, Matt, I have said some pretty harsh things to my dad but not once have I ever called him 'John' because his name is 'Dad'. I don't know why that bothers me as much as it does right now.

Sam scoffed and the noise brought my eyes up from the forest floor, where I was trying to not trip, to where his head tipped back slightly. "I hear you," he confessed. Oh goodie, here comes this bag of awesome. Dean doesn't get Sam's feelings for Dad – and whether he wants to or not, he's about to find out what they are.

Dean seemed, unsurprisingly, taken aback and froze for a small second as I continued to move on down the path. "You do?"

Sam shot us the 'freaking, are you serious right now, you know this' look before talking to Matt again. And his look _was_ sort of accurate. Like I say, _I_ know about Sam's feelings, because back when we were cool – and talking – he told them to me. However, Dean is oblivious to Sam's struggle. Well not so much _oblivious_ as it is _ignorant_. Dean only sees Dad's side, and that's a struggle to deal with on its own. I couldn't take the tension that somehow managed to fill the air, and I called to Matt who was a few feet head of Sam. "Yo, Matt, how old are you anyway? Like seventeen?" If this kid was near eighteen, he could just move out, and then he wouldn't have to deal with his dad. At least, he could do it decent, and actually _tell_ everyone in his family what's happening. And then he can have a semi-normal family instead of a brood of unhappy Winchesters.

"Sixteen."

"Well, don't sweat it, because in two years, something great's gonna happen," Sam cut in after giving Dean an angered look.

"What?" Matt seemed completely sarcastic.

I smiled as I picked up my own downtrodden mood. "Well, for starters, you'll be eighteen. And even though that means you can vote, which is for sure not as exciting as it sounds, you can totally go and –"

"College," Sam stopped me. "You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad."

"What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family," Dean immediately cut in.

Did I not say this was going to happen? I think I called this. Bartender, we can use a round over here. That will be four shots for me. "Dean," I sighed, along with Sam. Sam, however, glared at Dean, while I shot him a look of plea. "I was gonna say you could just move out, like to a different part of town or something, Matt. Just give yourself space; space is a good thing – but don't _ditch_. It's worth it to keep in touch with your family," I glared at the back of Sam's head. I hope he got what I was saying. Not everyone who goes to college just completely drops their family, do they? I'm pretty sure that was just my one brother's dick move.

Sam didn't even seem to want to hear what I had to say. "How much further, Matt?" his voice was forced through a tight jaw. He can suck it up. I am so right. It's totally better if you at least admit to having a family. How can he seriously advise that Matt just ditch – with no looking back? Dean though, he needs to relax. Not everyone can be on the family chain gang like we can. Different people don't live like this, and I feel like sometimes he forgets that.

Matt trudged on, seeming a little be happier. "We're close."

I didn't miss as Sam shot glares over my head towards Dean, and then angry eyes down to me. What the hell did I do? Throw his crap in his face? Deal with it, he throws all kinds of nonsense in my face, so karma's a pain, huh! Dean was grumbling under his breath as we followed Sam and Matt who were talking quietly. Finally we made into a huge clearing, and I felt goose bumps cross my skin as I heard a loud buzzing. Except it wasn't just one buzzing. It was like a thousand bugs were sitting above my head, buzzing as loudly as they could. I don't necessarily know that there were bugs in the air, but I was swatting away at them regardless. Call it psychosomatic if you want, but I'm not taking any chances.

"I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um, part of an AP science class," Matt told us as he stopped in the middle of the clearing and faced us with a shy face. Right. AP class, that's code for, 'Imma geek and this is actually my favorite hobby – but Imma blame it on my nerd class'. It's cool, Matt.

Smiling, but covering my mouth with a hand so that I didn't offend anyone, I nudged Dean in the ribs for his comment of, "You two are like peas in a pod." They really were. Man, maybe Sam should have had this kid for a younger twin instead of me. There'd be a whole lot more than just the motel roaches to deal with though. Ew. Now I'm not gonna feel safe in a motel tonight. I'm totally going to make Sam and Dean check everywhere so that I don't die.

"What's been happening?" Sam questioned as he ignored Dean.

"A lot. I mean, from bees to earthworms, beetles… you name it," Matt answered. "It's like they're congregating here."

I instantly perked up. "Sweet. All the bugs are hangin' out here, in this clearing?" I pointed both of my index fingers down to the ground at my feet. Matt nodded to me, not understanding. "Perfect," I turned to Dean. "You got lighter fluid and a match? If we torch this entire area, all the bugs are gone. Boom, bam, done. Take me back to my blanket cocoon, bro. Let's go!" I shoved a fist in the air, feeling accomplished.

Dean playfully pushed me to the side with that crooked side grin he does. "Why are the bugs all comin' here?" he pressed to Matt.

"I don't know," he shrugged with a defeated expression. Oh yeah, that was worth shoving my idea out of the window. Wanna reel it back in there? 'Cause I do.

"What's that?" Sam spoke, indicating to a very large, dark area of dirt and grass in the distance.

I leaned past Matt and looked. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that's called the ground, Sam. It pretty much covers everything." Sam rolled his eyes at me and began to walk over to it. Being led forward by Dean, I froze as we got to the edge. I have never seen so many worms in my life. Not even gummy worms. This is straight up gross. I tried to step backwards, but Dean's hand on my lower back stopped me.

"Touch it, Becca," he told me.

"Are you freakin' nuts? You touch it," I dodged around his hand and stood behind him, nodding to the dirt. And he did. He stepped up and tapped his toe to the ground and it broke beneath his boot. That does not seem safe! The ground is literally crumbling at our feet, and we're surrounded by bugs. Yep, it's the end of the world. Pack your bags, fill your tubs, and buy some Spam. That crap is coming in fast, folks. Do you know what Dean did next? He dug his hand into the hole! And because I am a very worried, very loving, baby sister, I threw on my fearful expression and looked over his back – to make sure his hand didn't go missing or anything. Oh great, now he's poking around the hole with a stick.

His body tensed up and then he began to reach further into the hole. "There's somethin' down there." He seriously better not lose a limb. Dean ditched the stick and started digging around with his hand again, and then I heard him '_ugh_' with straight disgust. I didn't see what he brought out of the hole – until he turned around and started shoving it towards me. It was a skull, covered in worms. And the thing that freaked me most, was the worms. I've dealt with human remains, but those squiggly, squirmy, crawling lines? Ew. Dean had a look of entertainment on his face as he shook the skull slightly, causing worms to tumble to the ground at my feet. I just want you all to know, I screamed like a girl when one fell on my shoe. I kicked my foot and the worm that had dropped onto the toe of my sneaker flew into Sam's pant leg where he jumped back. Ha, I knew I wasn't the only one freaked out by bugs.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty.**

**Um, okay, a few things, my lovelies.  
1. Holy cow can you believe that this is Chapter THIRTY!? I cannot, and I think I have just hit a personal goal that I didn't even know I had.  
2. Over 100 reviews?! You guys are officially the best! I do it all for you, and I hope you guys really like the story - I am hoping since you've all said some amazingly nice things. More personal goals that I didn't know were there.  
3. THANK YOU to those who reviewed Jenmm31's story! It's a good thing you did, too, because I was going to tell you all that if you didn't make her want to come back and write more; then I too would be taking a hiatus until the dilemma was solved. However, she has assured me that you guys have boosted it all, and she will be continuing. Thirty-five cheers? I think so. Let's keep the love going for her.**

**Now. On to chapter matters.  
Apologies for the wait! I'm just excited that I got one out to you before the weekend. I hope to get another out before the weekend is up, and I pray you keep your fingers crossed. School is just getting a little more intense and projects are coming up, along with midterms, and then there are 7 weeks worth of assignments that I need to catch up on... But I digress.  
Also, there are TWO flashbacks in this chapter. One is much longer than the other, but I feel they go hand in hand. NOW. They are NOT from the same moment or day of Becca's past, but they do pertain to a lot of the same situation. They also are very helpful in understanding a little bit more of Becca herself. I hope you guys get some of the answers you've been hoping for.  
Please understand that the second flashback is NOT a full flashback - it is a excerpt from a much larger one that will emerge as time goes on. I have not fully decided whether or not the first one is going to be a full flashback or not yet - so bear with me; this is totally a work-in-progress story. Do not fret, I do have an ultimate goal!**

**I really think that was all that I had to say to you... Maybe? Ah, well.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

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I was squished up against the door of the Impala as tightly as I could be. It was partially because the blanket I'd ended up bringing along as my travel companion was SUPER thick and plush as it sat in a ball beside me; and then it was also partially because on the other side of Mount Plushy Comforter Burrito Cocoon was a box. And in that box, was a bunch of bones. And those bones were covered in dirt… and worms. RIGHT! Sam got all defensive when I said I wanted to rinse them off, because then they'd be worm free. He was all '_blah, blah, blah, I'm a bitch, you could wreck the remains, nag, nag, nag, get me a tampon_'. So those might not have been his _actual _words, but that's what I am telling everyone I heard. In the meantime, as Dean drove to a nearby college so that we could talk to someone who might have a clue about them – I was watching the scenery fly by. The ride was pretty much silent. Sure, Skynyrd was swimming around the air as it left the radio's speakers, but no one was really talking. I'd been a little bit worried when we first started rolling out of the neighborhood, but when no one said anything, I'd considered the entire situation to be full blown sketch-ified. But hey, I'm not gonna be the one to say something. Uh uh. Sam over there is all clueless, and just tapping his fingers against his jeans while Dean's shoulders are all tense and his jaw just keeps tightening. He wasn't even looking back at me in the rearview. He was _beyond_ focused.

The school finally came into view and Dean parked the car, signaling that we should all exit the vehicle. I shut my door and Sam looked at my empty arms. "You couldn't grab the box?" he asked as he shot up his brows in question.

"Did you rinse off the bones?" I stuck my hands in my back pockets and raised my own brow as I turned to face him.

His brows dropped from questioning to annoyance. He then opened the back door and pulled out the box before draping his coat over the top of it, shielding the outside world from our discovery. He rounded the back of the car and started to walk with Dean and me towards the Anthropology building. "So, a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave."

"Yeah. Maybe this is a haunting. Pissed off spirits? Some unfinished business?" Dean threw in.

"What, like Casper?" I posed as we continued towards the front doors.

Sam looked down at me and scrunched up his face. "Casper was friendly."

I rolled my eyes and continued on, running my fingers through my hair and bringing it back into a very messy, very lumpy pony tail. "Friendly or not, the kid had unfinished business."

"No he didn't," Sam argued.

"What movie did you watch? Because in the one I watched, the ghosts didn't cross over until they finished or announced they had no unfinished business. That's why the lady lit up like a disco ball. Remember?" I questioned, looking at Dean for some sort of notion that I was actually completely correct in my argument.

Sam didn't seem convinced, and Dean didn't help me at all. Shifting the box in his hold, Sam just grimaced and spoke like he was trying to assure a small child. "Yeah, Becca, you're right," he forced a smile. Whatever. I looked at him from under my brow and just sighed. "The real question is, why bugs? And why now?" he threw out there as we dodged around a few passing students.

Dean smirked. "That's _two_ questions." I smiled, and Sam completely ignored the comment. You'd think this kid is embarrassed or something with the way he acts around Dean sometimes. Clearing his throat and stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, Dean became more serious. "Yeah," he said in response to Sam's rejection of the joke, "so with that kid back there… why'd you tell him to just ditch his family like that?"

"Just, uh… I know what the kid's goin' through," Sam answered.

Hold up. '_Know what the kid's goin' through_'? Is he kidding me? Is he trying to turn this into some sort of defensive back up for his own issues with our family? We don't need this right now. Especially when some of us are just finding it possible to re-bury traumatic moments in our life. "How 'bout tellin' him to respect his old man, how's that for advice?" Dean's words cut my thoughts right in half.

And to be honest, I agreed. Matt, in my opinion – which we all know means 'in actuality' – was not really all that respectful to his father. He called him by his first name; he went out of his way to try and destroy what it was his father was trying to build; he craved the moment he could break free and never look back… And until that moment, I didn't even connect Sam with Matt; but I guess it's true, Sam craved that moment too – and he freaking got it. And he didn't even care what it meant to everyone else. But this was not the time, we didn't need to have a full blown argument while being here. Dean wasn't going to like anything Sam was going to have to say, and I really didn't want to relive any more moments. "Dean, come on," I was quiet as I grabbed his arm and looked up at him – wishing for him to just drop the whole issue. It was like a mutual understanding with us. He said it himself, he saw how all of that had affected me; he even helped me through it – and I was eternally grateful. He stopped walking, stopping us all, and just gave me a hard look and sighed heavily.

"This isn't about his old man," Sam continued. Why can this guy not just take a hint right now? It's like he _wanted _all of this to come out in the open. "You guys think I didn't respect Dad. That's what this is about."

What?! Didn't respect Dad? Is he kidding? God, okay, so I may have led you to believe that Sam did in fact respect my father. And he did. To a point; Sam respected him as being our 'father head' and nothing more. At least that's how I always saw it. Sam didn't go around calling Dad, John or anything; and he definitely didn't just go out of his way to piss Dad off. He more or less just consistently argued with anything Dad said. I mean, it's not like Sam is Dean or anything.

Dean waved Sam off, and turned back to face the Anthropology building. "Just forget it, all right? Sorry I brought it up," he grumbled starting to pick up his steps again.

"I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough –"

Seriously – if anyone in this family was not good enough, it was most definitely me. I am the one who got left behind. I am the one who never figured out just what her 'place' was in all of the mess. I was the one who had to continue to practice hours after her brothers stopped. I was the one who was yelled at because she was '_not focusing and taking it seriously_'. Not Sam. "Oh, shut up, Sam!" I finally burst. "You weren't good enough? Are you kidding me?" I was furious. All Dad did when Sam left was talk about how proud he was. Didn't that Jerry, no… Jim? Dale? WHATEVER! That guy said that Dad had mentioned Sam being in college. Dad didn't just talk about you like that unless he was proud. If Sam hadn't been good enough, Dad wouldn't have bragged like that.

Dean seemed just as upset as I was. "Yeah, Sam, what are you sayin'? That Dad was _disappointed _in you?"

"Was? Is. Always has been," Sam stated. God, I can't even believe this is happening right now.

"Why would you think that?" Dean didn't understand. But I did. Sam didn't follow the John Winchester way, and that put a struggle on everything, ever. They always fought, and Sam never wanted to do anything that had to do with him hunting. He wanted to join the soccer team; participate in Science fairs; go to Winter Formals and then join in on after school activities. He didn't want to learn to aim a gun; or melt down silver; or practice Latin. He wanted to be 'normal'. I guess it's easy to just say that you're a disappointment instead of owning up to the truth of it all. That's not what I do when I say that I was a disappointment though. Don't confuse the two.

Sam lowered his voice as a pack of people pushed by us. He tightened his hold on the box and turned to face us, eyeing everyone around us to make sure no one was listening. "Because I didn't wanna bow hunt or hustle pool – because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which to our whacked-out family, made me the freak."

He does have a point. It wasn't that I didn't _want_ to do it all, I was just honestly BAD at it all. Sure, maybe going to a school dance would have fun, if I had ever had a real dress or something, but it wasn't worth it. Call me a sucker for it, but I enjoyed the times I'd had with Sam way more than any soccer game would have let me. Sam had been a sense of 'normality' in my life at that time. Dean was just frustrated with me all the time, because he was the one who got stuck running through day long sessions of practice. Dad was always gone, and when he was home Sam and he fought so much that I'd hole up in the bathtub and listen to music while Dean just did his best to make sure everything else in the motel room was perfect and didn't give anyone any other reasons to fly off the handle. I guess I could have helped him out a little bit more now that I look back on it.

"Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in _The Munsters_, and Becca's the actual chick," Dean bantered.

"Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud –"

I quickly cut in, stopping him before he dug himself into a deeper hole with me or Dean. Dean because Dad is seriously like the greatest thing ever to the guy, and me because Sam doesn't even realize that he sounds like a spoiled kid to me. He didn't really know what he was talking about, and he was just holding onto this grudge with a bad attitude. So maybe I was being spoiled too? Sam and Dad definitely had their problems, but I'm bitter about the outcome. Sue me. "Dad _was_ proud of you, Sam! He couldn't _stop_ talking about how proud of you he was! God, it was all I heard. '_Sammy's gonna do something with his life, Becca. Why don't you try harder so that you can do something with yours too?_' or '_Sam could hit that with his eyes closed, try again. Think like Sam._' Oh, and, '_Remember how Sam used to do it!? Like that, Becca, like Sam!_' was my favorite. He was beyond proud of you."

Sam shook his head, fighting whatever it was that I was trying to prove to him. "Most dads don't toss their kids out of the house!"

"I remember that fight," Dean interjected. "In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases comin' out of your mouth." Lucky Dean, because I sure as hell didn't remember that fight. But, that's because I wasn't there. I got to be the lucky one who came walking into the left over mess. There had been no '_good bye_'. No warning, no '_hey, what if I left for college, do you think that'd be cool_?' Nothing. He just walked right out that door – for a year. A whole year before I'd discovered his new number in my dad's cell phone. That's when my one sided phone conversations began. But at least Dean got to remember something other than, '_Uh, yeah. I'll take chicken salad._' as last words. Lucky bastard. No. I walked into a fight _I_ hadn't been involved in – and then had turned around on me.

_"All right, Sam, they didn't have chicken salad so I just got you tuna fish instead. I'd be careful though before eating it, because the stuff looked pretty sketch when I –" I kicked closed the door behind me and walked into the motel room that was thick with tension. Scanning the area around me, I saw that only my dad and Dean were there. Sam was gone and the bathroom door was open and the light was off. He was definitely not in the motel room. "Where's Sam?" I questioned as I set the bag full of sandwiches onto the nearby table._

_My father turned to look at me and his face was twisted in anger. "Your _brother_ has decided he needed to live a _normal_ life," he sneered._

_Normal life? What was he talking about? So maybe tuna wasn't his normal choice for a sandwich, but damn. "I don't understand," I told him and Dean honestly. That was when I noticed Dean's expression. Tired. Tired and completely lost._

_"He's gone, Becca!" My dad yelled, throwing his hands in the air._

_Maybe it's because I am dumb, or something, but it wasn't really registering. "When is he coming back?"_

_There was a crash and shatter as my father sent the beer bottle from the table to the wall. I watched with saucer sized eyes as the light brown liquid bubbled into foam on the edges of the spot on the wall and then slipped down to join the puddle that was expanding around the paper and shattered glass. Shooting my eyes from the mess to my dad, I was shell shocked as his hands flew to his hair and a slight chuckle emerged. A frustrated, cynical, abrasive chuckle. "Dean, grab all the weapons and throw them in the duffle. Becca, collect you stuff and the food. There's a case a few hours from here," he sighed as he stalked over to where the papers from _this_ case were attached to the wall._

_"But Sam –" I started._

_"Leave it alone, Becca," Dean ordered as he collected all the hidden guns and ammo, and then started shoving the guns he'd been cleaning into the bag._

_I bit my lower lip as they just continued cleaning and grabbing all of our things. Were they really just going to _leave_? We couldn't leave without Sam. What were they thinking? Sam would be back, and then we would be gone, and then he's gonna not even know where we are. Sam always came back. If they just slowed their roll, we could just sit here until he came clumsily walking through that door again. I watched Dean whose brow was very low over his clenched jaw. He zipped up the weapons bag and threw it over his shoulder as he shoved past me and headed out to the Impala so that he could load it into the trunk. My dad was still ripping, and I mean ripping, the stuff off of the wall and crunching them into his large hand. Something was wrong. This wasn't right. I quickly pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and flipped it open, calling Sam. He would be able to tell me that this was just another stupid argument and that he'd be back in like, ten minutes. There was no way we were going to just leave him here. I didn't even have to bring the phone up to my ear to know that Sam's was ringing… because there were chimes coming from the cushions of the couch. With how quickly my father started for the couch, I knew that I would never beat him. It was not even a competition – but apparently my body disagreed, because it flung me over there as fast as possible. Sam's cell was already in my dad's palm and he was ending the call as I arrived at the back of the couch and glared up at him. Sam wouldn't have just left his phone – which means he was pretty pissed off to have done so._

_"What happened?" I tried to control my anger, but I was looking into the eyes of the man that my anger stemmed not only towards, from, and in all areas pertaining to; but my anger was _his_ anger. We were one in the same with that. When something cuts us, it cuts us deep. We hold grudges; we don't forget. But that resentment and vengeance he held? That was something Sam had, which is why I knew that whatever had happened, was because of the man glaring at me. He refused to answer me, and I am pretty sure that I heard the plastic of the phone crack in his clutch. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket and told me to go back to packing as he turned around and moved back to the wall of papers. Following him around the couch, I grabbed his arm and pulled. Surprisingly, he stopped his focus and looked down at me. I could always get Sam to stop and listen, but not so much my dad. "Tell me what you did!"_

_His teeth were clenched as he started to clench his fist. "Go pack your stuff. We're leaving soon," he ordered._

_"What did you do!?" I seethed. "Sam wouldn't leave his phone like that. He never has before! The only reason Sam would do that is if he didn't want to be reached; and the only time he doesn't want to be reached is after he's gotten into some argument with _you_! What did you say to him!? What did you do!?"_

_"Who do you think you're talking to?" he yelled, and I heard the door shut behind us as Dean re-entered the room._

_"What's going on?" he questioned from just past the door frame. My father and I both ignored him and continued our battle._

_I clenched my own fists and squared my shoulders as I narrowed my eyes further towards my father's face. I had never gone up against him like this, and I was actually completely not regretting any of this. I felt strong, and determined. "Well apparently I'm not talking to anyone, because I'm not getting any answers! What did you do to make Sam leave!? And where did he go? When is he coming back?"_

_"HE'S NOT!" for how loud he was, I didn't jump. The words though, those two small words, hit me like a head butt to the stomach. I even felt myself fall back a bit to put all my weight onto my heels instead of the toes like it had been. What did he mean that Sam wasn't coming back? Why did I feel like I subconsciously knew that? It was like all the breath in my body was gone, and one of my worst fears was staring me down._

_"N-not? What do you mean he's not?" I was much quieter and way less intense as I looked up at him with curious eyes. "Why isn't he coming back? Why didn't you stop him?" I felt my anger build up again with each word and I was suddenly more upset with the fact that he hadn't stopped him instead of the fact that Sam was indeed gone, for apparently, forever. No one said anything. My dad's nostrils were flaring and I think I saw his eyes deepen in their shade, and there may have been actual steam coming from out of his ears._

_"I'm giving you an order, Becca. Go pack your crap, we leave in ten minutes. I will leave you here if you don't move," he pointed his finger towards my pile of unused things that I'd collected over our stay, and he didn't blink as he spoke._

_Normally, I would have jumped and did exactly as he had told me to. I most definitely wouldn't have ignored him and continued an argument that he was obviously trying to end. "So you're just willing to lose two kids in one day? Some parent you are!" I yelled. Dean was instantly behind me, pulling me back, and I tried to shrug his grip off of me. "How could you just let him go like that?! Don't you care enough to stop him?!"_

_My dad closed the distance between us, and his toes were slightly covering mine, but I ignored the pressure. Now was not the time to pull back and show weakness. Even if there were obvious hot tears built up along the rims of my eyes. I hadn't let them fall yet, so in that sense, I considered myself strong. "I'm warning you, watch what you say next, young lady," his eyes and voice were icy and cold, and I actually felt my entire body twitch in Dean's grasp. It was that tone that shoved fear not only down my throat, but into my veins. It was the tone that made the alarm and 'abort mission' siren go off in your mind. I glared at him, he glared back, and Dean's arm loosened enough to the point that I could rip my body away from him and stomp my way to the door. Gripping the knob, I froze when he spoke again. "Where do you think you're going?"_

_I scoffed in a sarcastic tone, "Out. Don't worry, _I'll_ come back… even if you are the one driving me away." Wrenching the door open, I stepped into the outside air, just as the dragon that was the fiery beast buried deep inside my father burst forth and probably sliced Dean in two._

"You know," Sam scoffed, "truth is, when we finally do find Dad… I don't know if he's even gonna wanna see me."

"Sam, Dad was never disappointed in you. Never. He was scared," Dean announced. Yeah, scared and a dick about the whole thing. And completely caused me to put up a wall that day. Not only did my relationship with Sam change that day, along with Sam and my dad's, but my relationship with my dad beyond changed. It was like I became the new fighting force for him to reckon with. What can I say, I guess it runs in the family…

Sam stuck his tongue in his cheek, and I couldn't help but notice that there was a small smirk playing on his lips. What, did finding out that you _weren't_ a huge disappointment boost his ego? I felt myself grow even angrier with him. "What are you talkin' about?"

Dean turned, and sucked in a deep breath as his eyes widened in that 'all right, let's just get through this' way. "He was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talkin' –"

I cut him off sharply, "Dad used to check on you all the time, Sam. Drive up to Stanford… Every chance he got." Sam's eyes widened and his smirk fell at my words. Good, now he knew. Even after everything that had happened between him and my dad, and even more so what happened between my dad and _me_, I still didn't like the way that Sam treated him. He acted like John Winchester was some sort of horrible person – and up until the day that Sam left, I disagreed completely. There were my own issues though that I had to work through with the man. I didn't like anyone in my family being attacked – unless it was by me.

"He did it to keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe," Dean continued.

Sam watched us quietly. I shifted my feet, and Dean just watched him. "Why didn't you tell me any of that? Either of you?" his eyes met mine, and I scrunched my face up. Why didn't I tell him that? ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?

"Well, it's a two-way street, dude. You could've picked up the phone," Dean scoffed. Damn straight Sam could have picked up the phone. And I tried to get him to pick up that God damn phone so many times that my fingers had started to hurt at one point. But that last phone call? I thought it was pretty self explanatory about why _I_ didn't tell him anything about Dad checking up on him.

_The call on the other end rang through two full times and then stopped part way through the third before the click signaling the voicemail started. Bringing the phone away from my ear and dropping my hand, I groaned loudly and mentally ran through the all too familiar recording before placing the device against my ear as the beep sounded._

_"Okay, you know what, Sam? This is the last time I am callin' you. You haven't responded in at least three weeks, and for all I know you're lying dead somewhere. You must be, because if you weren't you'd friggen answer. You wouldn't be doing this to me – driving me insane. Then again, you left me here, alone, with no second thought, so who really knows. You wrecked everything, I hope you know that. Dad doesn't listen, and he pretty much just keep me on an even tighter leash. Dean is about as useless as ever. He doesn't care. Hell, I'd be surprised if he noticed I wasn't in the room at night. But why am I telling you any of this? It's not like we've talked in years – but at least you used to call me… It was some sort of sign to show me that you at least cared or remembered me a little bit. I know it was you, Sam. Never picking up but always calling back, ringing once, like you couldn't handle actually hearing my voice – because I would have bitched you out. I hope you know that," I allowed a shaky breath to escape my chest. My body shook with the exhale, and I squeezed my dangling hand into a fist and shook my head. I was going to go through with this. "But I'm done. I'm not calling you anymore. I get it. You don't care anymore. You want nothing to do with me. I hope you can live with yourself, Sam, because I am done trying to. I miss you, and I really hope you're alive. And maybe you should stay gone, forever – because I don't know that I would ever be able to forgive you if you came back."_

"Let's go," I sighed, heading towards the building as some students walked by, pushing their way through our small group. "We're gonna be late for that appointment with the professor guy." I was quiet, and I assumed they'd followed me as I slowly made my way into the building, half hating myself, and half hating everyone else.

* * *

I was sitting in one of the chairs in the auditorium while we waited for the professor to enter the room. This place was huge. Sam said it was a 'lecture hall' or whatever. I was kind of just distracted by the size of it. I couldn't imagine this many people sitting here listening to one person talk about bones. It was crazy. I could hear the guys talking behind me, and I shot my head up as one of their chairs squeaked when the stood. The professor had come in, and he was walking behind a table as Sam and Dean met on the opposite side of the table, where he had placed the box. "So, you three are students?" the professor asked as I joined them at their mini Pow-Wow.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh, we're in your class – Anthro 101?" Sam told him. First off, why is he asking. Second off, would it be fully believable that I would be enrolled in a class called Anthro 101? What did that even teach?

The professor nodded his head and smiled, "Oh yeah." Okay, so apparently I am totally seen as taking Anthro 101. I hope it's worth it.

"So, what about the bones, Professor?" Dean cut in, straight to the case so that we could focus on getting out of this town.

Sighing, the Professor pulled the box closer to him and pulled out a bone – which I noticed was clean and fully rinsed off. I knew we could have done that! Now there are probably bugs and worms and dirt all over my blanket, and not to mention the back of the Impala. "This is quite an interesting find you've made. I'd say they're 170 years old, give or take. The timeframe and the geography heavily suggest Native American."

Whoa, this is way interesting. The guy call tell all this just by looking at a set of bones? "For sure?" I asked, hopeful. "You can tell all that just from the area we found it in? How can you tell how old it is?"

The professor grinned and nodded while pulling out a few more bones. I stared in fascination as he went through different techniques and signs that the bones themselves had so that he could narrow down the timeframe. He showed how just by the way that the skull was shaped there was a high chance that because of cheek bones, and teeth, and even brow placement could have related the bones to a specific culture or type of people. If that isn't awesome, I seriously don't even know what is. I would love to be able to just look at something and know that just by any way it was shaped that I could know a whole background to it.

"So, where we found the bones, do you think there were any tribes or – Sam, what's that word where all the Native Americans live?"

"A reservation, Becca," he smiled as he saw my enthusiasm.

I grinned back to the professor, "Yeah, reservation. Is there any way that either of those things could have been on that spot where we discovered them?" I was totally hopeful that we'd found something amazing. I felt a little bit like _Indiana Jones_.

The professor was tucking the bones away, back into the box, and pursed his lips while shaking his head. "Not according to the historical record. But the, uh, relocation of native peoples was quite common at that time."

"Right," Sam nodded in agreement. "Well, are they any local legends? Oral histories about the area?"

Sliding the box back to Dean who peaked inside, no doubt to make sure that everything was in it, the professor shrugged and then scratched the side of his face while he seemed to ponder a response. "Well… you know, there's a Euchee tribe in Sapulpa. It's about sixty miles from here. Someone out there might know the truth."

Dean glanced over to Sam and me, and nodded once, his voice in that 'we're back on track' mood. "All right," he told us before turning back and thanking the professor for taking the time to talk to us.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-one.**

**Yes. Goal for getting you another one this weekend is a success. Knuckle bumps all around.**  
**Apologies if this one sucks. It's like super late right now, and I was totally into it, and as the clock ticked on, I got tired, and I was losing momentum. But this is the last of the episode - so I wanted to get out ASAP.**  
**Sorry if there is a lack of detail in parts - but like I said. I am legit half asleep as I type this right now. Do not hate me. I might cry with how exhausted I feel.**  
**I hope you at least enjoy it :)**  
**PS. I did not proofread. I might later and then go back and fix things. I hope that isn't necessary - but hey.**

**Thank you to all the readers/reviewers/favoriters/followers/PMers. You are officially my favorite people on Earth, and you all have such kind things to say. I cannot get over it. Seriously.  
Let's keep the good momentum flowing, and keep those views and reviews climbing.  
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**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Sixty miles sure does seem a whole lot longer than just under an hour when your one big brother tells you to stop talking about how cool you thought Anthropology suddenly was, and your other big brother was just excited that you finally enjoyed school as much as he did. Contrary to popular belief – I'm not a mega nerd like Sam up there. I am nerdy, sure – but about cool things; like _Power Rangers_, _Ninja Turtles_, _Star Wars_, classic rock, old school _Gargoyles _cartoons – you know, the awesome things in life. Dean was being no fun as I ranted on about all the stuff that professor had talked about. Sam was just as animated as I was, and by the end of our frantic back and forth – I was sporting a full grin as Dean cranked up the radio to the point that the rearview and side mirror vibrated with each bass stroke. You could easily tell that the music was bugging Sam though, even if he did enjoy the song. With each shriek and wale of the guitar he would clench a fist or his lips would tighten. Dean, he was totally loving this. He was rocking his head back and forth to the beat and a content smile was on his face. Sam waited for the next break in the tape, signaling that it needed to flipped over, and then sighed out a breath of relief.

"Hey, do you think we could maybe _not_ listen to music for a while?" he hopefully asked as he turned and looked at Dean and I with annoyed eyes and a tight jaw. Well, if he's hoping his looks get him by – that's not the face to use.

I squished my lips together and pushed them to the corner of my mouth as my brows rose on my forehead. "I don't really have a problem with the music," I told him honestly, even though I know that's not what he wanted to hear. I felt a little bad, but not bad enough to sit in silence for the rest of the ride. Believe it or not, silence gives me a headache. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by noise all the time, you know? Sam gave me a disapproving look that clearly read 'you couldn't just help me out here' and I smirked, "What?!" I asked excitedly as I tried to hide my guilty smile. I couldn't hold my grin in anymore. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I vote we keep the music on."

Dean grinned and winked to me in the rearview. "You heard her, Sammy, she votes we keep it – and majority rules."

"And this is because it's an actual majority and not because she voted with you?" Sam sighed with a frown and his eyes shot towards me.

Nodding his head and smirking, Dean leaned forward and ejected the tape – flipping it over and stuffing it back into the slot. "Yeah," he nodded as the drums and guitars kicked in almost immediately. I couldn't control my laughter as Sam went to turn down the volume and then had his hand slapped like a child's.

The volume did eventually get turned down, and I'd curled up with my thick, blue book, and was chewing on my lip as Dean turned off the radio and looked at me in the rearview. Sam had began to click away on his computer, doing, whatever he was doing – we were all in our own little content universes. "You still readin' that book? I thought you were done with that weeks ago," Dean told me.

Shrugging, I just picked my back off of the door and leaned against it once more. "I was done with it weeks ago. I'm readin' it again."

"That good?" Dean continued as Sam turned his attention to me, curious as to what book I was so focused on.

Lifting up the book and showing Sam the cover, I saw his roll his eyes, and I just shot him a look before answering Dean. "Even better."

Dean scoffed and readjusted himself on the seat. "I doubt any book is that good, and I've read some good ones."

"You can read?" Sam interjected, causing me to smile.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean bit. "I just don't understand the obsession. You're always readin' them. I don't even know the last time I saw you _not_ readin' one of 'em."

Sticking my makeshift book mark – an old coaster that I'd nabbed from some bar – in between the pages, I saw the signs for our destination pass by us. "Dean, have you ever even read any of the _Harry Potter_ books?" I requested as I pulled on my shoes and straightened out my shirt. He shook his head at me like I was nuts – and I knew he hadn't actually read any of them. "Well until you do, you're just not even on the level of cool I am – and will just not be able to understand my addiction, or the importance of reading them over and over," I teased as he rolled his eyes and Sam grinned and stuffed his computer into his bag.

I felt like Dean had some slick comment, but a man was heading towards our clearly out of place vehicle. Rolling to a stop, Dean leaned through the window, asking for directions to anyone who could possibly supply us with answers. Thanking the man, Dean rolled on through the settlement. "I'm not on your _'level of cool_'? Since when are you even cool?"

"Wooooooow," I droaned on and faked like I'd been hurt. "Such a cruel statement from the just evolved ape; thanks, bro."

"I'll show you '_just evolved_'," Dean muttered as he rounded the corner and parked the car, shutting off the engine.

Following them out of the car and towards the diner that we'd been guided to, I just clapped Dean on the back of the shoulder. "Oh you and your empty threats! You can't really consider hurting me like that, it'd break your heart!"

Dean caught my arm as I went to pass him, and I felt myself trip over a very large foot that hadn't been in my path before. As I tumbled forward, an arm caught me and I felt myself being thrown over Dean's shoulder, facing behind him as he walked on. "If me hurting you broke my heart like you think, I'd have died that day I dropped you as a baby."

I went rigid in his hold and caught Sam's eyes as he followed directly behind us. "You _dropped _me?! When did this happen?!" Sam shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Did Dean really drop me? I mean, I knew about the fan incident, but I also knew that was my father that did that… But Dean better not have dropped me.

"Lookin' back, it makes a ton of sense for how you are now, too," Dean rambled on.

"You better not have really dropped me, Dean," I tried to sound mean, but I don't think you know how difficult it is to sound furious when you are being carried like a child.

Dean chuckled, and I felt the vibrations go from his chest into his shoulders, and ultimately my stomach. And then it happened. Dean shrugged me off his shoulder and onto the ground, continuing on towards the diner as though it hadn't just happened. Sam seemed just as surprised, because he almost toppled over on top of me as I was suddenly in his footpath. Turning around, Dean clutched at his chest and grabbed onto the wooden half-wall that was around the diner's patio, "Ooh, oh, my heart," he cried as he acted as though he was going to fall to the ground. Sam helped me up and we both shot our eyes over to Dean who was suddenly standing up straight again, a giant grin on his face, "No, uh actually, I'm, I'm good," he sniffed before winking at us and sticking his hands into his pockets. I felt a growl roll throughout me and watched Dean turn and head into the diner.

Sam was trying to suppress a laugh beside me and I snapped my head towards him, a low brow directed at him. "Shut up, Sam," I snarled as I stomped my way into the building after Dean.

It wasn't very difficult to find the man we'd been told to go ask. He was sitting at a table, by himself, playing cards. Solitaire I think? I hope he wins, 'cause that game is a total beast. I don't even remember the last time I'd actually won a game. That's how hard it is. "Joe White Tree?" Sam directed towards the man, as the door shut behind him and he came to stand directly behind me. "We'd like you ask you a few questions, if that's all right," he continued after Joe nodded his head, signaling that he was who we were looking for.

"We're students from the university –" Dean started before Joe cut him off.

"No, you're not. You're lying," Joe stated as he flipped over and moved some cards around on the table. My eyes widened. Did this guy just cut off Dean? _Dean_. As in my brother, Dean. Ooh man. This guy had guts.

Dean wiped his face over his mouth and then looked over my head to Sam, as I smiled at the action that had just occurred. "Well, truth is –" Dean had tried to throw on his 'cover up' tone, and usually it works.

This time, however, it didn't. Joe had cut him off again. "You know who starts sentences with '_truth is_'? Liars."

Whoa, did he just call my brother a liar? Twice? Okay, it was funny the first time, but now not so much. He was avoiding helping us and I didn't appreciate it. I kind of just wanted to end the bugs. "All right, Mister White Tree, we just gotta –"

"You have a bad temper," he spoke the words with an exhale as he moved more cards around on the table. I stuck my tongue in my cheek and nodded my head, contemplating what he'd just told me. He can suck my bad temper, thinking he knows me and whatnot.

Sam quickly came to the rescue as Dean was beginning to grow just as agitated and aggravated as I felt. "Have you heard of Oasis Plains? It's a housing development near the Atoka Valley."

Joe looked over to Dean and pointed to Sam. "I like him. He's not a liar." His eyes slowly drifted down to me. "And he has respect. Not like her – his temper is not loose."

Hold up. Did this man just say that I don't have respect, but that I'm loose too? The hell?! He doesn't know me. I felt heat rise against my skin, and I heard Dean shove his hands in his pockets. Oh, we were so on the same page right now. "I know the area," Joe told Sam.

"What can you tell us about the history there?" Sam continued kindly.

"Why do you want to know?" Joe looked down and focused on his cards.

Why do we want to know? Is this guy serious? Freaking, we want to know because we want to know. Just answer the damn questions you unhelpful guy, you! I clenched my teeth. "Look –"

Sam cut me off quickly, bringing up a large hand and clamping it over my mouth, making sure to hold my lower part of my jaw up, so that I couldn't lick his hand. This guy is good. And clearly I'd licked his hands a couple times – no matter how that sounds, I'm not changing it. "Something… something bad is happening in Oasis Plains. We think it might have something to do with some old bones we found down there – Native American bones."

Joe's eyes rose and he looked hurt – and I suddenly felt myself feeling a little bad about snapping on him. Not much, but a little. "I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead. They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people."

I was completely shocked. That story was brutal. I can't believe that even happened. No wonder we didn't get along with authority like that. Look at the damage those people have caused in the past. "Insects. Sounds like nature to me," Dean told us all. Insects do not sound like nature to me. Earth, fire, wind, water – those sound like nature. Insects sound like disgusting problems that are infecting the world like a disease. "Six days," Dean finished, more or less asking Joe for verification.

Nodding his head, his mouth fell open a bit. "And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive." He informed. So all of Oasis Plains is essentially going to die. Talk about a brutal going. Did Larry even know about this legend on the land? I don't think he could have. Dismissing ourselves from Joe, we walked out of the diner and close together, keeping our voices low until we'd made it off of the patio and headed towards the car. "When did the gas company man die?" Sam pressed as we picked up our pace.

"Uh, let's see, we got here Tuesday, so, Friday the twentieth," Dean answered.

Whoa, is it already March 25th? Good gravy, my birthday is in like a month. And Sam has been here for like almost six months – time seriously does fly. Oh my gosh, and this meant that Sam and I would be together for the first time in a long time on our birthday. I seriously better get an awesome gift from him to make up for all those years he missed. I went to count off the days on my fingers as Sam and Dean continued. "Wait, March 20th?" Sam stopped us from our movement to the car. "That's the spring equinox," Sam told us as Dean confirmed his question with a nod of the head.

"Hey, is that the night Joe meant when he said that the sun and moon would share the sky as equals?" I lost track on my fingers as I looked up to them with my question.

Sam stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, that's what he meant. So, every year about this time, anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land," Sam ran down as I'd picked back up to counting my fingers.

"And on the sixth night –"

I cut Dean off. "That's tonight. Tonight's the sixth night. Joe said that '_on the night of the sixth day, none would survive_'. That means everyone is going to die _tonight_."

Sam caught what I was getting at, "We've gotta do something – we can't just let Larry's family die. How do we break the curse?"

"You don't break a curse," Dean told him. "You get out of its way. We've gotta get those people out now," he ushered towards and into the Impala so that we could leave immediately.

* * *

"What are we gonna do when we get them out of there? Just take them to some dank motel and tell them '_You're building on cursed land and you have to stop everything_'? Sam, they're gonna think we're nuts. They're not gonna believe us," I argued as Dean was on the phone, speeding down the dark, night highway.

"You heard Dean. '_You don't break a curse, you get out of its way_.' What do you want us to do? Just lure them out?" he threw his hand in the air as he faced me with an angered face.

Even though I didn't have a good enough answer to give him, I still felt that just going in there and saying they needed to go was a bad idea. How often has this worked in our favor? Pretty much never. And Larry already had issues with bugs – like he's gonna believe that a bunch are on their way to kill him. I just want everyone to know that I said bugs were out to get us. And Dean said it was a stupid fear. I jumped as Dean slammed his hand against the wheel angrily. Apparently his phone call hadn't gone as planned. Sam snatched the phone out of Dean's hand and began dialing a number. I turned myself and focused on Dean. "What did Larry say? Are they leaving?" What was I blind? I'd obviously seen that Larry wasn't leaving – I just felt the need to ask. Because I am me.

Dean shot me the 'are you stupid' look before refocusing on the road. "Yeah, Bec, they're packing their things now. Totally bought it. I mean, I got frustrated 'cause the guy didn't say '_bye_'."

"No need to be snarky," I muttered as Sam spoke to whoever he'd called.

"Matt, just listen. You have to get your family out of that house right now, okay?" Sam ordered. Even I knew that was gonna be a difficult task. "Because something's coming," Sam continued on. "Yeah, a lot more." This whole thing was just ridiculous. We had to go and convince a family to leave because they were going to be attacked by bugs. Right, because that's something everyone believes. "You've gotta make him listen, okay?"

"Give me the phone, give me the phone," Dean reached over and snatched the phone from Sam while shooting him a few disapproving looks. Bringing it up to his ear, he shot a final look at Sam before speaking into the mouth piece. "Matt, under no circumstances are you to tell the truth, they'll just think you're nuts."

I shot an 'I told you so' look to Sam. See, I'm not crazy. I know what I am talking about. "I told you, Sam. We've got to come up with another way to get them out of there. Just saying that there are bugs is going to make them call in the guys with the white coats." Just as I finished telling Sam that, we heard Dean telling Matt to fake a pain in his side so that his parents would take him to the hospital. "And even if they do leave the place, what are _we _going to do, huh? Just stand there and welcome all the bugs? I'm tellin' you now, if you think I'm going to stand there and do that, then you were the one who was dropped on his head – not me."

Dean hung up the phone and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. "Make him listen? What were you thinkin'?" Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. Was I not talking over here? Please, feel free to just start a whole separate side conversation. No worries.

"I was thinkin' it might be the only shot we have to save them," Sam answered.

"You can't just tell Matt to go and tell his dad the truth – he'll never believe him, Sam!" Dean argued.

I threw my hands up in the air, and brought them down beside me in a super dramatic way. "Thank you! That's exactly what I told him!"

Sam was visibly upset and frustrated. "I got it, okay? I don't know what I was thinking! God, between the two of you it's like a brick wall. I could honestly talk to one of you and not have to even go to the other – because you agree on everything. You're that alike now."

Dean and I shared a look and then shot it over towards Sam. "Whatever, Sam," Dean huffed, waving him off; just as I said, "You wish." Dean and I are not that alike. Sam is so crazy. And I do _not_ agree with Dean on everything. If I did, I'd still be in that pit in Oasis Plains, probably half eaten now.

* * *

"Damn it, they're still here," Dean groaned as he shut off the car. You're kidding me, right? We pull up here, and it's freaking like, midnight, and these people are still effing here. And even better? Larry is bolting out of his house towards us. Freaking awesome. "Come on," he ordered as we followed him out of the car. As we headed towards the house, Matt emerged, and the force behind Larry's voice didn't surprise me, but it did take me back a little bit.

"Get off my property before I call the cops!" he yelled.

Sam stepped ahead of us and spoke before Dean or I had to a chance to try and talk. "Mr. Pike, listen – "

Matt cut in from where he was standing on the porch. "Dad, they're just tryin' to help," he pleaded. Larry wasn't hearing it though. He turned around and bellowed for Matt to get in the house. "I'm sorry. I told him the truth," Matt told us.

What the, "Why in the hell would you tell him the truth? God, what is it with you AP freaks? Do you not think with your brain or something?" I snapped. The clock was ticking on and these bugs were on their way to eat me. I don't know about you, but these are not really what I want my last moments to be like. Dean put a hand on my shoulder, signaling for me to calm down.

I more or less just fumed and felt my nostrils flare like a bull's. "We had a plan, Matt, what happened to the plan?" Dean was calmer with his tone – but I could tell he was just as thrown off by the antic as I was.

"Screw this, Dean!" I spun to face him. "It's like, what, midnight? We need to go now. I'm not about to just get eaten by a ton of bugs."

Sam agreed from where he was standing a few steps behind me now. "She's right. Larry, they're gonna be here any minute now. You need to get your family and go, before it's too late."

Larry apparently thought we were nuts. Who would have guessed? I mean, if I was him, I'd totally believe it if someone told me that bugs were coming to attack. "Yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm," he sarcastically commented. Dean must have seen the fire rise in my eyes because as I went to whip around and make a comment, he gripped my shoulder tightly, keeping me grounded in my spot.

"Larry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don't think somethin' weird's goin' on here?" he spoke, a darkness to his eyes as his fingers didn't release on my shoulder.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, and we're gonna have a problem," Larry threatened.

All right. That is just about the very tip to the pile of crap I am going to take from this guy. I don't know how I managed to move myself around in Dean's death hold, but I did, and I was now at Sam's side, not attempting to go further. I couldn't have if I wanted to anyway. There were two large beings holding me back in their own way. On had an arm in front of me, the other had clasp on my upper arm. "Listen up, Larry. We're trying to _help_ you, so grab your kid, grab your wife, get your crap, and go! Because if you don't, there is going to be a whole lot more of a problem that you think we have right now. Matt," I switched my eyes over to the teen standing up on the deck of the porch, "seriously, go inside and pack a bag. Tell your mom to do the same."

Matt nodded to me and stepped forward, trying to get his dad to go along with him. "Dad, they're right, okay? We're in danger –"

"Matt, get inside! Now!" Larry screamed at his son.

"No! Why won't you listen to me?!" Matt yelled back, completely distraught.

"Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!" Larry looked like he wanted nothing more than to get right in Matt's face.

My eyes widened in horror. It even took me a minute to recognize that it wasn't Sam and my own father arguing in front of me. Sam was right. This is exactly what he'd gone through. So many memories of hearing them yell flooded back into my mind, and for all of them, I was a bystander, trying to ignore it while Dean tried to stop it without upsetting our father too much. I inwardly cringed and subconsciously looked over at Dean. He was focused on the two people arguing in front of us, and I saw the corners of his eyes dip low. So he was remembering it all too. I guess that Sam wasn't the only one who had felt some sort of connection with Matt and his relationship with his father. "Look, this land is cursed! People have died here. Now, are you gonna really take that risk with your family?" Sam snapped, drawing my eyes from Dean to him, where his arm was stiffer and pressing against my stomach, holding me back.

Dean's body moved behind me and his grip on my arm disappeared, "Wait," he breathed – cutting off all conversation from continuing. "You hear it?"

I strained my ears. It was faint, but slowly growing louder, and I almost hadn't heard it at all at first, but it was there. A buzzing. "What the hell?" Larry cautiously shifted in his stance and we all snapped our eyes to the bug zapper that hung next to the front door of the house. Smoke began to rise into the air and the zap grew from one small one to a large, lengthy one and I saw a small handful of insects fall from the light bulb to the wood of the porch.

"All right, it's time to go. Larry, get your wife," Dean ordered and I felt a ball of relief form in the pit of my stomach. He just made my dream of escaping this a reality, and I wanted to bolt to the Impala and dive under the blanket I still had sitting in the back seat. And I would have, but Matt cut me off, indicating that we should look behind us, up into the sky.

I don't know how I saw it, considering how dark it was outside, but there it was. A deep black mass against the blue black of the starry sky, and it was coming closer at a speed I was not a fan of. Along with the mass came the buzzing, and it was too much now. "Dean, Dean!" I shook his arm and felt myself shake beside him. This was not seriously happening right now.

"Oh my God," Larry's words were quiet. '_Oh my God_? _Oh my God_?' Is that all he had to say right now? We'd told him this was going to happen, we told him to get out, and now all I could think was that because this man had been stubborn and an idiot and wouldn't listen – my family was now doomed too.

I felt Sam's jacket brush against the material of my own jacket. "We'll never make it," he told us.

I froze. "Don't say that," I told him, shaking my head. "We've got to try. Sam –"

"Everybody in the house. Everybody in the house, go!" Dean yelled, and he practically picked me up and carried me in as he ran. Thank god, because I don't think I could have moved otherwise. I was thrown into Sam's chest where he steadied me and met my level as the other people in the house talked about whatever.

"Bec? Becca," Sam was gripping my shoulders as I chewed on my lower lip and tried to focus on my twin. "Becca, you okay? I need you to focus. We're gonna be fine. Got it? Come on, focus. You need to think straight if we're gonna do this together."

I couldn't believe what he was telling me. Whether I wanted to or not – I couldn't. He didn't know. Dean and Sam had both said we couldn't beat a curse. We had to get away from it. And then Joe said that everyone was to die. We were going to die. "Sam, you heard Joe! He said that everyone was going to die! We're going to die! All because they wouldn't leave!" I was waving my arms around, frantically running fingers through my hair and scratching at my thumb and chewing on my lip. "Sam, you said it yourself – there is no real way out. How are we going to beat this? What if the bugs get in, huh? What if they eat us? I don't wanna go out as some bug's midnight snack!"

Sam sighed and looked over my head, and I assume it was to Dean and that they were silently communicating with one another. "What if I could promise you we make it out alive?" I rolled my eyes, knowing he was just trying to calm me down. "We _will_ get out of this, Becca. Hey, how much crap have we gone up against since I got back? And growing up? This isn't even half of what we've experienced. We're gonna stop it. Trust me. Do you trust me?" I didn't know whether to shake my head or nod. Did I trust him right now? I know that sure we'd been a little better since the whole Hook Man thing, but I was a little too preoccupied on avoiding bugs right now. It's amazing how fear takes over all other thoughts and feelings when it arrives. I didn't miss the hurt that entered his eyes as his lips formed a slightly downward arc. Sam stood up, and looked to someone in the distance. Before I knew it, Sam was running up the stairs with Matt and I turned to see Dean speaking with Larry and Joanie.

"Dean, I –" there was a small continuous tapping and soft pounding that interrupted me. "What is that?" I looked to the window where he was intently staring. Looking closer, I saw that they were wasps, or bees, or hornets, or yellow jackets – whatever the hell you want to call them, that's what it was. "Are those all the bugs?" I gasped.

"They're blanketing the house," he told me, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

This is crazier than any bug I've ever gone up against in my life. "What… what are we gonna do, Dean? How are we gonna stop all these bugs?" I couldn't even look up to see his silent response, but the footsteps on the stairs told me Sam and Matt were back from whatever they'd been doing upstairs.

"We try to outlast it. Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise," Sam answered, coming to stand behind me.

"Hopefully?" Larry asked at the exact moment that I'd cried out, "Try?"

Finally looking away from the window, I felt a sick jolt to my stomach every time I heard another tap signaling a bug had collided against the side of the house. The buzzing was echoing everywhere, making it even more difficult for me to try and focus on anything beside the swarming cloak that had covered the entire building. "Sam, what do you mean '_try_'? I thought you said we're gonna make it out of this – now we're only _try_ing?"

I don't know if he was going to answer me or not, because his face didn't seem to trust the thoughts running through his head when a loud creaking started to come through with the buzzing that still wouldn't stop. I turned to where Sam was now focused, and saw for the first time since we got into the place that there was a fireplace in the center of a wall. Crap.

"What is that?" Matt asked as he stared from the fireplace to Sam.

"The flue."

"All right, I think everybody needs to get upstairs," Dean ordered as a louder creak came from the fireplace and then tons of bugs started to fly from the fireplace right towards us. "All right, everybody upstairs! Now! Go, go, go! Becca, move!" I heard myself scream, and I don't know if anyone else did, because I was definitely the loudest. Swatting away bugs and air, I was ducking and running up the stairs with everyone else, and I didn't miss that there was a warmth that kept appearing behind me as we moved. Flashes of bright orange light were filling the hall as we made our way to where Larry was ushering people up the ladder, leading to the attic. The smell of bug spray entered my nose as Sam pushed me up the ladder ahead of him, and then Dean finished off the line, Sam pulling the ladder closed behind him. "You guys good?" Dean panted as he looked from me to Sam.

I felt my chest heaving, and I nodded, not quite sure. All I could hear was a fainter buzzing, and even though we were in an attic with no real escape, I felt safer… for like three minutes. "Oh God, what's that?" we heard Joanie cry out. Turning around I saw dust falling from the roof to the floor, and I heard the buzzing grow.

Grabbing down, I wrapped my hand around a wrist, not even sure whose it was to tell you the truth, just glad that it was even there. "Something's eating through the wood. What eats through wood?" I turned around, looking at Matt, waiting for him to answer.

"Termites," he told me.

More bugs, even better. "All right, everybody get back," Dean said, standing in front of us with a raised can and lighter. I felt Sam ushering everyone back into a corner, and Dean was slowly back to join us, the bug spray can shooting a flame towards the incoming pests. It was working for the most part, but some were still making their way to us. Doing the best I could to swat incoming bugs away, I heard myself squealing as I waved my arms around the air, trying to keep the flying insects away. Sam and Dean found spare wood to throw over the hole, patching it up and keeping it in place with a beam. Continuing to swat at the bugs that were still in the attic with us, I jumped with more chunks of the ceiling started to fall and even more bugs poured in. In a flash, I felt small pokes cover all of my exposed skin. It felt like a cat was clawing at me or something – and it was over and over and over. I went from swatting in the air to slapping myself to try and kill any bug that dug it's stinger into me. This is it. I'm going to die. Dean used the last of the bug spray, and Sam came and huddled us all down in a small pile in the far corner of the room – spreading out his coat like some sort of shield. I curled myself into his chest the best I could, trying to selfishly protect myself. Sue me. But it was just not a big enough jacket. Bugs were making their way past his extended arms and still stinging any skin that was showing. I felt Sam shift as Dean joined the group, also using his jacket as a shield and I moved over to him as quickly as I could, feeling him wrap as much of his jacket around the both of us that he could – and I totally decided I needed a way better jacket; or I needed to officially steal Dean's forever. I don't know if either of my brothers knew, but I was crying. If Dean did know, he didn't say anything, and right now, I was kind of glad he just let me get it out. I panic, I cry. Again, sue me. I could hear Joanie's faint whimpering outside of the leather that surrounded me, and barely made out that Larry was quietly trying to assure his family that it would be okay.

I can't tell you how long we sat like that, but by the time Sam and Dean stood up, my knees ached and I had to be helped up from my squat. I threw my hand up, shielding my eyes from the bright gray light that was pouring in through the holes in the ceiling – watching the bugs file out. Sam and Dean stepped away from me, going to see where the bugs were going, and I instead turned to face Larry and his family.

"Hey, Larry?" I breathed, turning to face my brothers once more.

"Yeah?" he sighed.

"Next time Matt tells you that bugs are coming to attack you and you need to go – freakin' go. Don't wait around for us to come back; because next time, I'll hurt you. Got it?"

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb into the front of Larry's house, and we saw a moving van being loaded. Oh, so now they want to leave. Walking up to where Larry was organizing some boxes, Dean grinned. "What, no goodbye?" he asked Larry.

Larry turned and stepped down off the small ramp, greeting us. "Good timing," he stuck his hand out for us to shake. "Another hour and we'd have been gone."

Good. Never come back. "Forever?" I hoped, scratching at the bumps that covered the back of my hands.

"Yeah. The development's been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But I'm gonna make damn sure no one lives here again," he informed.

Dean nudged me and indicated over to a stack of boxes, motioning for me to help load them into the van. Grabbing one that I could actually lift, I side stepped around Larry who was allowing me to pass, and continuing to talk to Sam. Sam eventually walked away, and Dean kept handing me boxes until we'd gotten them all loaded.

"Becs, I think we missed one. Over here, help me out?" Dean called from around the side of the van.

I grumbled and made my way around the vehicle, looking for the box, and finding nothing. "Dean, where'd you –" something rough slide down in front of me and scraped against my nose, trapping me. I went to raise my hands and the back of them collided with what felt like cardboard. I couldn't even look down at my feet to see if I could see light because my chest was in the way. "DEAN WINCHESTER YOU GET ME OUT OF THIS BOX RIGHT NOW, GOD DAMN IT!"

I heard chuckles coming from what sounded like right behind me. Attempting to turn around, I felt the box move with me, and groaned when the laughter got louder. "Not a chance. This is great. Sam! Come over here, I need help with this last box. I can't lift it by myself."

"I AM NOT FAT!"

After they'd had their fun or torture party – depending on who you ask – we'd said our goodbyes to Larry, Joanie, and Matt, and settled alongside the Impala. Sam was just finishing up as Dean and I watched. "You know, Dean…"

"What?"

"I think Sam just didn't like that Dad didn't accept him," I told him.

Dean shifted and crossed his arms, looking down at me. "What are you talkin' about? Dad accepted Sam, all the time – and you know it."

Shrugging, I looked down and stuck my hands in my pockets. "I don't know, I'm just sayin'. Sam did a lot of what Dad asked, even if he didn't want to. He did it because it was Dad. I think he just got to that point where he expected the support back – and just never got it. I guess to him, by Dad not being there that meant that he wasn't proud. You know what I mean?"

He didn't answer me right away. I heard him clear his throat. "That's stupid, and you know it."

"Stupid or not, that's what I saw when I saw them fighting like Larry and Matt did last night. That brought back so many memories. And I'm sorry – by the way."

"For?"

"Not being there to help you try and stop them. It wasn't fair to let you do it all alone."

Dean audibly groaned and crossed one leg over the other as Sam headed towards us. "You good to go?" he asked as Sam kicked the toe of his shoe against a rock, sending it skipping under the body of the car.

"I wanna find Dad," he blurted out.

I pushed off the side of the car and stretched my arms up, allowing my spine to crack. "Join the club," I said through my stretch.

"But I just… I want to apologize to him," Sam added.

Catching Dean's confused look, I looked back to Sam and began to gather all my hair to the side and play with it. "For what?" Dean questioned.

"All the things I said to him. He was just doin' the best he could."

I didn't miss that 'told you so' look that Dean shot me. Told me or not, I still believe in what I said. Dean and I just had different points of view is all. "We'll find him, Sam," I assured. "And then you can apologize –"

"And then within five minutes, you guys will be at each other's throats," Dean finished.

"God, I hope not," I teased as Sam laughed.

"Yeah, probably," his laugh died and left us in silence, all kind of just watching one another and pondering. "Let's hit the road."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-two.**

**Hooray for mid-week updates! Woot!**

**Things are beginning to emerge in the understanding that is Becca Winchester, and I really don't think you guys understand how much I have been fretting about it all. I want it to be perfect for you, and yet, I can't just spill all the beans yet. I have some (hopefully) great ideas in store, and I need these little random bits to come out first. I hope when all is said and done, you all sit here and go, "I understand so much right now!"**

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**Mega, mucho, lots of, piles and piles of thanks to Jenmm31. She has been so much help lately - especially for this chapter. I hope I do not let you down with the things we have talked about! Please enjoy. And you can all just click the link on my Favorites Tab on my Profile that will take you to her amazing story. Make sure to review/PM her your thoughts and ideas. You don't even know how happy that makes her.**

**I think that is all I had to say in this.**  
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**Disclaimer - for anyone who forgot or doesn't know... I don't own Supernatural, or any of the songs that I use, or any of the movie quotes, or anything that even seems remotely familiar. I basically just own Becca, and her crazy thoughts.**

* * *

This… Is… Boring…

I… Hate… This…

Dean… Is… Dumb…

Sam… Is… Dumb…

I… Am… Awesome…

This… Is… Boring…

These were the thoughts that kept running through my head as I tossed the quarter-machine bouncy ball up in the air above my face while lying on the couch in this motel room. The words just repeated over and over with each toss, and I think I had been thinking them for hours. I heard the faucet in the bathroom shut off and then the door opened up, and the light clicked off as Dean walked out. I ignored him, well, not like, _ignored_ him, but just paid him no mind as the ball left my one hand and soared up, and then came down into my other hand. I did notice though that Dean stood by the end of the couch, watching me repeatedly toss the ball up. I just continued to stare up, and toss the ball, the thoughts still going through my mind.

"What are you doing?" Dean questioned as he leaned forward and kept his eyes on the ever rising and falling orange ball.

"Practicing hand-eye coordination," I told him. It was a lie, but hell, it worked and made sense. His eyebrow rose as the ball soared past his face again. It was silent as I continued to toss the ball a few more times and then Dean's hand snatched out and caught it as it rose into the air. "Hey!" I sat up, annoyed as he walked past the couch and towards the table where the laptop was sitting open, from where'd left it before going to the bathroom.

He shot me a look and set the ball on the table next to the laptop before he clicked the spacebar and settled into the seat. I grumbled under my breath and just pouted like an infant while staring at the black TV screen. "All right," Dean huffed after clearing his throat – signaling that everyone else needed to start paying attention to what he was going to say next. "I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fish trawler found off the coast of Cali – its crew vanished." They probably couldn't handle the smell of fish, and then jumped, swimming to Hawaii. I wanna go to Hawaii. "And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." I'm not going to go check out dead cows. We go to morgues and see dead bodies – that's one thing. Dead cows probably sit in the sun all day and stink. Dean can do that one on his own. "Hey," Dean snapped, causing me to look up at him with wide eyes. I noticed Sam looked up from his spot on the bed as well. "Am I boring you two with this hunting evil stuff?"

I scoffed. "Yes." I spouted at the same moment Sam said, "No." Locking eyes, Sam smirked and looked down at the pad of paper in his hands. "We're listening. Keep going."

"And here," Dean spun the computer around, to show us the screen that had a blow up of an online newspaper article on it, and then spun it back so he could read off the words, "a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times."

I got off the couch and walked over to where Dean was staring at the screen. Leaning over his shoulder and skimming the article, I saw in fact, that the guy did shoot himself in the head three times. Who can do that?! "This one, I say we do the Sacramento case," I decided, patting Dean on the shoulder. Besides, Sacramento means California. Well, so did that fish one - but this one didn't involve stinky fish. But anyway, Sacramento is in California, and California is close-ish to Hawaii. Hawaii is the destination, people!

Dean nodded, seeming to agree, and clicked a link that the article offered, allowing us to see some more information about the case. "Hey, any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?" he asked Sam. Then he shot a glance up to me and shook his head, defeated. "Sam!" he yelled, causing me to jump.

Sam jumped, but not because of Dean, but because apparently he'd just had a light bulb moment. "Wait! I've seen this!" He was up in an instant, searching through his bag.

"Seen what?" I questioned from where I continued to stand behind Dean who at the same time asked, "What are you doing?"

Sam held up the pad for me to see after comparing it with whatever he'd grabbed from his bag that the journal had been tucked away in, and I stared at it quizzically before taking it from him, and then sitting down on the edge of the bed he'd just left. "A tree?" I looked up to see him nod his head and bite his lip – as though I was going to understand. "You're not listening to Dean… because of a tree?" my words came out slowly.

The pad was snatched from my hands, by Sam, who looked between it and the photo again before turning to face Dean. "Dean, I know where we have to go next," he said breathlessly.

Dean seemed to humor Sam's idea, after catching my look. If Sam had a better idea for a case than the guy who capped himself three times, I was interested too. That case actually sounded completely interesting. "Back home – back to Kansas," Sam informed us. What? Back to Kansas? Where in the hell?

"Okay, random. Where'd that come from?" Dean spoke my thoughts.

Sam forked over the photo he'd dug out of his bag, and allowed Dean to look at it for a minute before he spoke again, staring at the pad of paper in his own hands. "All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?"

Oh, this already was going to be a bad idea. There was no way that Dean would be down for this. And this was proven through the skepticism in his voice as he said, "Yeah." It almost sounded more like a question than a certain response.

"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?" Sam pushed, throwing the pad onto the other bed so that he could use his hands while speaking.

I leaned forward on my knees, and furrowed my brow. "Sam, where are you going with this?"

"Yeah, what the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean's voice was picking up that tone, I'm sure you know the one. The 'tread lightly and don't push it because I am not in the mood to deal with this crap' tone. Yeah, that tone was the one I knew would come.

Sam seemed to struggle with his words before he breathed deeply. "Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house – I think they might be in danger."

I caught Dean's eyes. He _thinks_ they might be in danger… because of a tree, that he has been drawing, that apparently has something to do with whatever picture he gave to Dean. Dean flung the photograph onto the table and clicked the laptop shut, turning in his chair to face Sam. "Why would you think that?"

"Uh…" Sam looked over to me, and I pursed my lips, not sure what was going on. "It's just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?" Crap. I totally got was he was saying now. He had had a dream about something to do with our old house and the new people living in it. Sam wandered towards the bathroom, but Dean got up and caught him before he got too far.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

"Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that," Dean pushed.

I crossed my legs on the mattress and just tipped my head. "Is that the reason you jolted awake last night, when I went to use the bathroom?" I asked Sam who solemnly nodded his head. Yep. This is totally one of those dream things he'd mentioned a while back. "Just… just trust him Dean."

"Well none of us are goin' anywhere until you two start tellin' me what's goin' on," he ordered, waiting.

Sam finally sighed. "I have these nightmares."

Dean nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, his total 'I'm in charge and need answers' side coming out. "I've noticed."

"And sometimes… they come true."

You could have heard a pin drop in the room, even if it is covered in carpet. The silence seemed to hang there until it finally hit Dean, what Sam had just said. "Come again?" he was completely stunned.

Sam was really getting frustrated and annoyed at Dean not focusing on the fact that he felt it completely necessary to return to Lawrence. "Look, Dean, it's not like I've kept these dreams a secret or anything, okay? Becca knew about them. You need to just trust me on this, so we can go help out these people."

Dean's eyes shot from Sam's face to mine, and boy, were they not friendly. "Wait, you _knew_ about this? And you didn't tell me?" Dean stepped forward, a hand on his chest, anger in his eyes, and betrayal in his voice. Friggen thanks, Sam.

I puffed out my cheeks, and clutched the mattress on either side of my lap. I couldn't meet Dean's eyes right away, but eventually, they slowly rose to his. "Um… in my defense, I only knew about one dream. And he hasn't mentioned any others since the Bloody Mary case."

"You've' known since then?! You said you couldn't tell me because there are '_some things you have to keep to yourself_!' Dean was flipping out on Sam again. Now I felt even worse.

I got up and stood next to Sam, drawing Dean's eyes to me. "Dean, I'm sorry. I swear. That's the first time I found out, and he really _hasn't_ mentioned any more dreams. I pretty much forgot until now." I did forget, too. We'd been kind of busy, so it wasn't like I did it on purpose. Besides, Sam and I were having issues.

Speaking of, Sam had turned to look down at me. "Well, maybe I would have told you if you hadn't been ignoring me."

There was a roll to my neck and an attitude to my voice as I turned to look at him. "Well, maybe I wouldn't ignore you so much if you weren't such a jerk lately!"

Sam turned his whole body and I heard the scoff slice through the air. "So now I'm a jerk because I don't like that guys just go around thinking that they can just slide right into your pants – no questions asked? I used to think that made me a good brother."

"It _does _make you a good brother. What makes you a jerk is that you honestly think that I will just let any guy '_slide right into my pants – no questions asked_.' I used to think you knew me better than that," I told him honestly. If he wanted a fight, ooh, then he would get a fight.

"I used to know you, Becca, but you've changed."

"You said I didn't change!" I yelled at him as I recalled our conversation from a number of weeks ago.

_I eyed him. "Thanks, that's just what I need to add to my fears. You sure know how to cheer a girl up, don't ya? Okay, so, don't hate me for asking this, but what about you? What about your nightmares lately?" He ignored me and flipped another page in one of the ledgers. "I told you mine, Sam! The least you can do is tell me yours. I feel like we haven't talked in forever."_

_"We talk every day."_

_"Not like we used to. You were my best friend, you freak. And when you left I had to go to Dean. Do you know what that did to me!? I mean, Sam, come on. I look like his clone. From my almost always pulled back brown hair down to my ripped blue jeans. My attitude sucks, I am probably the most sarcastic person in the world ever, and I eat burgers. All the time. I eat so many burgers I could probably die from heart disease tomorrow. I don't really just open up anymore, Sam. Dean's a quiet 'hold it in' type person, and when you left, I didn't really want to unload everything on him… So, I mean, we talk, but not like you and I used to… I never felt like I had to hold back with you."_

_He closed one of the books and stuck his tongue in his cheek, as though he were thinking about it. "You're not _so _horrible. And you always dressed and acted like Dean, so you didn't really change, Becs."_

_"Well… true. But you still have to tell me."_

Sam threw his arms into the air, and his voice gained volume as he shrugged and slightly shook his head before snapping on me. "That was before I saw what kind of bad influence Dean has had on you in the last four years!"

"Hey!" Dean yelled, insulted at the last comment. However, Sam and I completely ignored him and continued on.

"Oh my god," I groaned before throwing my own hands into the air and then slapping them against the sides of my legs. "Dean is not even that bad! Heaven forbid the guy teaches me that it's actually okay to crack a joke once in a while, or that flirting with someone can be innocent! And just _what_ do you mean by all of a sudden saying that I have changed? I mean, if you hadn't thought so then, why are you just thinking different about it now!? It's not like being around us since then has been any different. I am pretty sure Dean and I have been consistent in our attitudes and personalities."

Sam brought his hands to his hips and a sarcastic chuckle tore through him while a jackass grin spread over his lips. "Really? You really don't know why all of a sudden I don't necessarily think you're the same girl? All right," he shifted, completely angry at this whole situation. He counted off the things on his fingers. "You flirt, all the time. You take Dean's side over anything and everything that I say. You pretty much have some creepy mind sync thing with him, where you both agree, all the time. You are like best friends with the guy all of a sudden, where as when I had been around, you could hardly stand the guy!"

Is. This guy. For real. Right now? SERIOUSLY?! "OH MY GOD!" I screamed, bending at the knees and shoving my hands out in front of me, palms up. "Do you freaking hear yourself right now? Sam! You _left_, freaking left! Okay? And Dad wasn't exactly a shoulder to cry on or anything, so that left _Dean_. Sorry if I enjoyed having someone to talk to, all right? You weren't even freaking there to know what I felt like. Dean showed me that it was okay to have fun again, after being depressed for however long it was that I was. I only agree with Dean when he's right. And I do not take his side _all the time_. I used to take your side all the time, you know! And you didn't have a problem with it then. If anyone has a creepy mind sync thing with Dean, it's you, not me, nightmare boy. You guys hardly freaking talk when it comes down to it. It's all squinty eyes, and bitch faces, and puppy dog looks –"

"Dude, you're the bitch face and puppy looks," Dean cut in, only to receive a death glare with me.

"And the consistent flirting?" Sam continued after rolling his eyes at Dean's statement – completely not even acknowledging anything I'd just spilled to him, and to be honest, that kind of hurt.

I bit my tongue. That was not a subject I was ready to cover with him right now – especially when he still had that tone in his voice. How could I just sit there and explain to him that I did all this because then I felt like _I_ was in control of the situation – instead of some douche bag at a bar. That night I was vulnerable, and I didn't understand why everything happened, and I still don't. He told me that I had been asking for it. And after a breakdown with Dean, he assured me I was strong, and he was right. To me, having these clothes, and this attitude, I couldn't be blindsided like I was that day. You can call me what you want, and _clearly_ Sam does, but it helped me pull my shit together and move on. I shook my head and placed my hands on my hips. "You know what, Sam, just forget it, okay?"

Instead of listening to his wise, younger, more beautiful sister like he should have, Sam just tried to continue the fight. "No, you started this, so now, you can finish it," he was jabbing a long finger towards me as he spoke.

Knocking his hand out of the way, I snarled at him, "I am finishing it. Right now. This fight? Over. I'm done trying to move past whatever the hell is up your ass and turning you into Mister Mega-Douche. You don't like who I am? Too bad, get used to it, 'cause this is who I am now."

"Stop being over dramatic –" Sam huffed, running a hand through his own brown hair.

"Over dramatic!? OVER DRAMATIC!? I can show _you_ over dramatic," I yelled. I pounced before Dean could stop me and knocked right into Sam, sending him backwards and onto the mattress behind him. Straddling him for a better angle and easier reach, I tried to claw at his face while his hands wrapped around my lower arms and kept them somewhat suspended in the air.

"Dean," Sam yelled, trying to look around my ever thrashing body, "a little help?"

I couldn't see Dean, but if I had to guess, he was crossing his arms and smirking at us. He was probably UBER proud of me right now. He could hardly contain his excitement as I took Sam on and conquered the moose beast. That was totally what I'd say he was doing. And that is what I will tell you he was doing. I will _not_ tell you that he took like three giant steps and ripped me off of Sam and then flung me onto the other bed, where I bounced like the ball he'd stolen. I also won't tell you that he stood in between the beds, arms held out on his sides, palms facing each of his younger siblings as a sign that neither one of them try to even attempt thinking about attacking the other. And he most definitely did _not_ yell out, "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sitting up on the bed, I used my palm to wipe back some of my hair that had fallen in front of my face. "Look, this thing between you two has to stop. Right now. You've been at each other's throats and I'm sick of hearin' it. So, from now on, you two aren't talkin' to each other. Got it?" he didn't seem convinced with his own logic as he shot out the command.

Not talk to each other? Yeah, good freaking luck with that. "Dean, that's not gonna happen," Sam sighed as he ran his fingers along a part of his face that my nails had managed to catch. Pulling his hand back, he checked his fingertips for blood. There wasn't any, and he was the one being over dramatic now.

"Well, then you better come up with somethin', Sammy, 'cause I've just about had it with you two." I hung my head, feeling like a complete let down. I breathed a heavy sigh, and I felt the mattress dip as Dean sat down beside me and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs. "What dream did you tell Becca about?" No one answered him, and he groaned, "Sam! Tell me about the dream!" he ordered to Sam, bringing him out of the stare he'd been holding on me.

The minute it took for Sam to actually do as Dean said dragged on for what felt like a month. "I dreamt about Jessica's death – for days before it happened."

I didn't look up to see if Sam was looking at me. Instead, I stared at my nails, finding them fascinating, while Dean sat up straight beside me. "Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it was just a coincidence."

"No, Dean," I sighed, finally looking up and dropping my hands into my lap. I waited for Dean to catch my eyes. "He saw everything. The blood, her being pinned on the ceiling, the fire. Everything."

"And I didn't do anything about it," Sam added, remorsefully. Dean shot his head over quickly, while I slowly dragged my eyes to where Sam was creating a fist with his hands over the blankets he was sitting on. "And now I'm dreaming about that tree…" he was stronger now with his words – true to Winchester fashion. Push it down, move past, no dwelling. I'm clearly failing at that last part lately. "…about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?"

Dean looked from me to Sam and back a few more times. Letting out a loud groan, he dragged his palms over his face before seeming completely overwhelmed. "I don't know," he groaned from behind his hands.

Sam apparently didn't like that answer, because his jaw went tight and he narrowed his eyes at Dean who was still hidden behind his hands. "What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

I heard my voice leave my throat before I knew that I had any possible control over it. "Sam, stop." He was being too pushy right now, and if he was smart, he'd see that by the look and actions Dean was doing, that by continuing to push there would only be a fight – and it would be bigger than the one we just went through. Dean can punch harder than I can, and he's a lot less likely to cool down as quickly as I do; mainly because there is no big brother to tell him to control his crap.

"Slow down," Dean spoke up from beside me. I watched as he quickly sprung from the bed and started pacing the room. "I mean, first you guys reveal that Sam's got _The Shining_," I caught Sam's eye at the comment and a small smirk played my lips. Called it. "And then you, Sam, tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when…"

"When what?" Sam and I asked at the same moment.

Dean stopped pacing and looked at us both, with large, sad eyes. I wanted to hug him. But he is Dean. You don't just hug Dean like that. Not right now anyway. "When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?" he was grasping for anything that would let him reject this case.

I bit my lip. I hadn't even really registered the fact that we would be going back _home_, no matter how many times the word had been passed around the room. But in that moment, seeing the pain cross over Dean's face, I realized just how much of a struggle this could really be. And not just for him, but for everyone who would be there as a support system for him – meaning me. Well, and Sam, but still. I mean, this place wouldn't be _home_ to me. Call me crazy, but I considered the Impala and whatever motel we were staying in to be my home. That was what I was used to. Even if we had lived in random places with random people when Sam and I were super little – the life I live now, that's what I was accustomed to. This is my home, right here, fighting with my twin, and being dictated by my brother. I didn't wanna change this. But to make matters worse, I didn't have a single idea of what kind of comforting message to tell Dean. Even if he was the big brother and the one who was supposed to look out for us, I felt responsible for the big lug. He'd been my rock for the last two years, and if I wasn't his, I at least wanted to pretend that I was.

Sam's entire mood changed, and he slowly stood up, coming to look down at Dean with soft, puppy dog eyes. "Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure," he pleaded.

"I know we do," Dean whispered as he caught my eyes over Sam's shoulder.

* * *

The engine turned over, and the loud purring stopped, but nobody moved a single muscle – except for our heads, that were all turned facing the house across the street. I don't even think we were breathing as we all stared. This house was not even a vague memory in my mind. I'd only ever seen it as a background piece to pictures, and I rarely looked at them. One, because we only really had a handful from anytime we spent at this place, and two, I just didn't really see the point in trying to remember something that I didn't have a clue about. Dean though, Dean remembered. Even though I surprisingly felt no connection to this house, I couldn't blink or tear my eyes away. But it wasn't anxiety or sadness that was coursing through my veins… It was confusion. It was hope – hope that I would feel something else other than… nothing. I felt nothing as I stared at the sea foam-y green color that was the siding of the two-story house.

"You gonna be all right, man?" I heard Sam ask Dean.

I didn't look at him, but I heard the soft, heavy sigh that left his chest. "Let me get back to you on that," Dean answered him, while we all continued to stare out the side windows of the Impala.

"And you, Bec?" Sam continued.

I nodded my head, sure of my answer. "Yeah. I think I'm gonna be okay, Sam." With the end of my words came the crunch of Sam's door as he started the movement for us all. Dean and I slowly trailed behind Sam's quick steps. Dean because of the house, me because of Dean. "Are you really gonna be okay, Dean?" I asked cautiously. I feel like if you ever have to tread lightly with Dean, it's in situations like this.

He didn't answer me as we stepped up the stairs behind Sam, instead he just did the sniff-snort 'we're not talking about it' thing, and I sighed as Sam tapped his knuckles against the wooden slab. A pretty blonde woman slowly opened the door, and seemed confused to see anyone on the other side. "Yes?" she questioned, slowly opening the door a bit more, allowing us to see all of her.

Dean cleared his throat, and jumped right into business, "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal –"

"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our sister, Becca. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

Whoa, what?! Since when do we just spill our guts like that? I'm pretty sure that's _not_ protocol! Jenny kind of watched us and then shook her head with a small smile. "Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny," she started. Oh. Our name is funny to you, is it? Handle your own problems, lady. That's it, I'm ready to go – off to the triple head shot guy. "You know," Jenny continued, "I think I found some of your photos the other night."

"You did?" Dean's voice was shock, amazement, sadness, and a little bit happy all at the same time. And people think _I've_ got too many emotions running through me at a single time.

Opening the door and inviting us in, Jenny nodded her head, waiting for our three bodies to pass through the frame. She walked us through the house, and my eyes shot all around me. Nothing, not a single thing triggered a memory for me. But I guess that makes sense – I was only six months when everything happened. But still, for how important this place is to Dean, I was kind of wishing that I'd have something flood into my mind. That way he wouldn't be alone – that way, if he needed someone, I was there. We'd made our way into the kitchen, which was pretty decent sized, and I could continue to hear the small sounds that Dean was making as we traveled through the house. Once we were in the kitchen though, any quiet that had been there was immediately broken by a continuous shout of, "Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!"

I snapped my head over to my left, seeing a very happy little boy clutching onto the frame of the playpen he was boxed up in. He was smiling and bouncing up and down and just repeating the word '_Juice_' over and over again. "Who's he?" I questioned happily. I couldn't stop smiling at the kid's smile, or his happy mood.

"That's Ritchie," Jenny informed us. "He's kind of a juice junkie."

"No kidding," I laughed as she reached into the fridge and grabbed a sippy cup. She offered the cup to me, and I took it happily before walking over and offering it to the jumping toddler. Ritchie seemed a little skeptical, but eventually took the cup, and laughed at the fake surprised face I had.

Jenny laughed as Ritchie just dropped down to the floor with a 'thud' and no second thought while sucking the juice from his cup. "At least he won't get scurvy," she said before I turned around and saw her go over and gently grab the shoulders of a girl who was doing work at the island counter. "Sari, this is Sam and Dean, and their sister, Becca. They used to live here," Jenny told her quietly, looking at us all with smiles.

Sari played with her pencil and forced a smile while greeting us. I saw Dean wave slightly to her, his own forced smile on his lips, and I frowned before joining everyone back in the kitchen. "Hey, Sari," Sam greeted while I followed suit.

Dean wasn't focused on that though. He was focused on figuring out what was going on and getting this over with so that we could leave as quickly as possible. "So, you just moved in?" he asked Jenny

Crossing her arms over her chest, a small grimace graced Jenny's pretty face before her bright eyes triggered a smile on her mouth again. "Yeah, from Wichita."

"Oh, that's cool. You guys got family here or something?" I asked while leaning forward on the counter, looking up at Jenny.

"No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job – I mean, as soon as I find one. New house," she rattled off.

So what she's _not_ telling us is that she's pretty much running. Could that have something to do with Sam's dreams? I looked up at Dean and Sam, neither of them eyeing me or one another. Did they not get what I'd just got? We're going to have to add this to our list of crucial information, I think. "So how you likin' it so far?" Sam pressed.

Leaning against the counter, I saw a shift in Jenny's eyes. I pulled myself up straight and stuck my hands in my back pockets, sticking my tongue behind my teeth – ready for whatever she was about to say. "Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home – I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here." I felt my eye lids fall a little bit at the comment. No. I didn't have lots of happy memories here. I didn't have any memories here. The only memory I now had of this place was serving juice to a boxed up baby. "But this place has its issues."

"Issues?" I jumped in before Sam or Dean had any opportunity to speak. "What kind of issues? Like, creaky floor boards and water mark issues, or 'I'm gonna pull my hair out if this doesn't stop' issues?"

Jenny chuckled and dropped a hand to her waist while her other one hung onto the counter, supporting her. "It's just getting old is all. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly."

Dean's throat cleared from his spot on the other side of Sam. "Oh, that's too bad. What else?" he was quiet but stern.

"Um… sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement…" Jenny's eyes shot across all three of our faces. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain –"

Not sounding offended at all, Dean stopped her apology. "No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

"It's just the scratching, actually," she told him.

Sari's voice was so quiet, that if it hadn't just been a small moment of silence, I probably wouldn't have even heard her as she turned to look at her mom. "Mom?" Jenny must have gotten that it was supposedly some big secret or something, because she bent down to be eye level with Sari. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

Well, that certainly caught my attention. Okay, there was something _here_ that Sari could see. So that could be a million things. A million and one things actually. But I'm guessing rats isn't actually it. "What are you talking about, Sari?" I questioned lightly to her.

"The thing in my closet," she said looking up to me.

Turning to look at my brothers, I saw Dean's eyes widen but his lips curled downward, and Sam's face was almost exactly the same. "Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets," Jenny assured Sari before turning to look at us. She had that total 'lie to her and make her feel better or feel the wrath that lies within' look going on, and I didn't think that now would be the right time to tell them the truth. "Right?"

"Right. No, no, of course not," Sam answered for all of us. First to Jenny, then more gently to Sari who didn't exactly seem relieved by Sam's words.

"She had a nightmare the other night," Jenny told us, running her hand over and down Sari's hair.

I nodded my head. I guess that makes sense. Nightmares can seem real – just take Sam for instance. "I wasn't dreaming," Sari argued to her mother. Looking back at us, she leaned a little forward over her paper, determination in her eyes. "It came into my bedroom – and it was on fire." I stiffened, along with my siblings and didn't have a single word to respond with.

It took a good while for Jenny to try and convince Sari that it was just a nightmare and that nothing in her room was on fire, and even with our input, the little girl did NOT seem convinced. I wanted nothing more than to ask her more about this fire being, but the non-stop throat clearings from Sam kept my questions under wraps. After apparently no help from us, Jenny seemed like she wanted us to go, but didn't appear to want to kick us out. So, we kindly excused ourselves like the gentlemen, and well, lady, we are.

"You hear that?" Sam asked quietly as the door closed behind us and we walked down the steps toward the Impala. "A figure on fire."

I nodded in agreement, looking back and forth across the street before I crossed with them. "Sari seemed way too convinced for me to believe that it was just some nightmare. You heard her say she wasn't even asleep when it happened. There is definitely something going on, you guys."

"And that woman," Dean pressed as we stopped at the car, "Jenny, that the woman in your dreams?" he posed to Sam.

Nodding, Sam walked around the front of the car and leaned on the hood, looking over our heads to the house and then down to our level, well, level_s_, once more. "Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching –"

"Flickering lights –" I added.

"Both signs of a malevolent spirit," Sam finished.

Dean shook his head, seeming to try and grasp everything we'd just learned. "Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true."

Typical Dean. "Well forget about that for a minute," Sam snapped, clearly stressed out and panicking. "The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"Sam," I called, trying to calm him down and stop the explosion that was sure to erupt from Dean, "relax a second. Think, did you _see_ the thing that Sari talked about in your dream? 'Cause I thought whatever you saw is the part that came true."

"I don't know, Becca, I didn't see a figure on fire," he grumbled angrily. "But, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?"

I sighed and shifted my weight onto my right leg. "This isn't going to make you feel better – but if it had been here the whole time, I think that means it wouldn't be what killed Jessica. Why would the spirit jump from Lawrence to Stanford? What's it haunting then, you? My guess is it's something else completely. We're gonna need more information."

Sam was clearly frustrated as he stepped away from the car and stuck his hands in his coat pockets, biting his tongue. "Those people are in danger, guys. We have to get 'em out of that house."

"And we will," Dean assured him.

"Oh yeah, because we have such a good record of just getting people out of their houses. Do we need to go over the whole Larry-Matt thing again?" I bit.

Dean slapped the back of his hand against my side and I glared at him, only to receive a glare back. I was right, and he knows it. "We gotta get them out _now_," Sam hissed.

Switching his look from my glare, across the top of the car to Sam, Dean was just aggravated with Sam as he was with the two of us. "And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe? Because if that's your idea, then Becca's right. We don't exactly have a great track record with people listenin' to us."

"Well, then what are we supposed to do?" Sam huffed.

"I don't know, but stomping back in there and telling them that they need to get out because of some malevolent spirit – that the daughter has already _seen_ is in there – is only going to make her think we are crazier than what she probably already assumes us to be. We'll come up with somethin', Sam, but right now, we got nothing', and you know it," I stated.

Sam shook his head angrily, and then looked over to Dean, who didn't appear to argue my points. With a strong force, Sam opened the Impala door and slid in, slamming it shut behind him – Dean and I following him, attitude dripping off both of us. I can just _feel_ the fun that is going to come with this ride.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-three.**

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* * *

My feet were dangling in the air above the black top, my back was pressed against the seat, my hands were stuffed in my pockets, and I was facing the roof of the Impala as Sam and Dean continued their banter back and forth – finally outside of the vehicle. They hadn't stopped from the minute we left Jenny and her kids. It was all '_Dean, can't you just listen to me here_…' this and '_Sam, I am listenin', but you gotta understand_…' that, followed by a ton of, '_Shut up, Becca_…' and even more '_If you don't just stop talkin', right now…_' Gotta love family. I heard Sam's muffled voice while he spoke over the roof of the car as Dean stuck the pump into the gas tank. "We just gotta chill out, that's all," Dean was telling Sam in response to whatever he'd just been told or asked. "You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?"

"We would create a list of what we know, and then connect the dots until we figured out what the hell this monster is," I chimed in from where I was lying.

Sam's finger taps against the trunk echoed into the back seat of the car as he walked around it. "We'd dig into the history of the house," he sighed finally coming to stand next to my open door and leaning beside it so that I could still see Dean in front of me. Well, if I lifted my head up. If I tried to look at him now, I kind of just saw my nose and then cheeks, and then chest.

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened," Dean answered.

I pulled myself up and scooted forward in my seat so that I was on the edge of it, and my feet were touching the ground. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I made a face in response to the bright rays. "Well, sort of."

"What do you mean '_sort of_'?" Dean questioned, looking down at where I'd just emerged.

Shrugging my shoulders, I leaned sideways against the door frame. "I'm not knockin' your point, I'm just sayin'. Sam and I were six months. I couldn't even remember the house if it hadn't been in pictures." I saw his face form a small grimace, and I sighed before moving along. "And you were only four, Dean. And I know you, you don't just have a photographic memory or anything. We only really know whatever Dad told us – and he didn't go spillin' his guts about that night. It's been a sore subject for everyone. Our knowledge on the subject is pretty much nothing. Nothing except a bunch of flickerin' lights, rat scratches, and a fire covered closet monster."

"How much do you actually remember anyway?" Sam questioned lightly after Dean didn't really answer me.

Not shifting his eyes from me to Sam, he spoke, "About that night?" I assume Sam nodded because Dean sighed and then finally relaxed in his stance. "Not much. I remember the fire… the heat." There was silence and I swear something flashed in his eyes before he slowly looked up and over to Sam's face. "And then I carried you out the front door," he nodded to Sam. "Dad grabbed Becca, and followed me out not long after."

"You did?" Sam asked at the same moment I asked, "He did?"

Dean looked at us, and seemed taken aback. "Yeah, you guys never knew that?" Shrugging his shoulders slightly and moving past it as Sam and I shook our heads at the same time, he continued. "Well, anyway, you guys both know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was…" his voice slightly cracked and he seemed to have to regroup himself and I kind of felt my stomach knot up. This was really not that easy to watch, and I don't know what you would have done, but I really didn't have a clue as to any answer. "…was on the ceiling," Dean's throat cleared and he pressed on. "And whatever put her up there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

I sighed and leaned farther into the door frame of the Impala, wiping my palms on my pants. Staring at Dean's boots, I pursed my lips into the 'constipated duck' face and sat there with the both of them, not really sure what to do next. We had no idea what this thing was, nor – in my opinion, which again, is not only law but fact – did I think we really wanted to find out. Could Dean handle that monster if it was whatever had killed our mom? And what about Dad then? I mean, he searched for this thing forever, legit, forever. And now he wasn't here. The thing he was tracking night upon endless night, and he wasn't here to kill the scary beast. To me that raised a big giant red flag. Oh, and then Sam! This guy was having dreams about this. What if in some freaky mind blowing way, this was the thing that killed Mom and then Jessica? What would he do then? Would he be able to do something? And why was he having dreams about it? I know the guys were totally beat up about all of this, but me? God, I didn't even know what I was at this point. "Well, what was Dad's theory about whatever did that to her?" I asked them both.

Looking up at Sam, I saw his shrug and slightly shake his head, telling me had absolutely no idea. We both looked at Dean, expectantly. "You guys asked him just as many times as I did. If he knew, he didn't share any ideas."

Fact. We had asked our father a million and five times what it was that had killed Mom, and each and every single time he would either walk away, ignore the question and change the subject, or grimace and look beyond hurt before he would sigh, rub his eyes and chin, and smile down at us with pain. Then he would clap Dean's shoulder, ruffle Sam's hair, or caress my cheek before saying, "_I don't know… but I will find it and I will kill it before it hurts any of us again_." It was a quiet promise – a quiet but repeated promise that I know all three of us fully believed in and trusted above anything else in our hearts. "Okay," I stood up and clapped my hands and then rubbed them together before trying to force down my uncertainties and slap a fake smile on my face. "So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on with the house and the beast inside of it now, what is our first step?" I don't know if it was my job to drag this back on track, but I was doing it anyway. Gotta keep them focused. If they're focused, they can't think. No thoughts equal no pain, right? This may be one of the times the 'no pain no gain' theory does not work. We gain without the mental pain. At least this time. "Sam, what do ya say we do?"

His head snapped up, seeming surprised that I'd taken control and deemed him worthy to speak. "Uh… I guess we have to figure out what happened back then. And then see if it's the same thing." Good.

Nodding my head, I signaled over to Dean, who also looked a little surprised. "Yeah… We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

"Perfect. Now, before we go running around town, I gotta pee. So, I'm gonna need the keys," I stated before holding my hand out to Dean.

"And you need my keys why?" his tone totally said he wasn't just gonna hand them over.

I didn't drop my hand though, I just wiggled my fingers, indicating that I still wanted the keys. "Look, last time I went into a gas station and left you two goons with the car, I left the gas station and was goon and car-less. I'm not letting you forget me again."

Talk about a stare down. Dean's hand twitched and brushed against the pocket that held the keys and I just smirked and gently bent my fingertips in a 'fork them over' fashion. Neither of us made large movements, and neither of us stopped giving the other one the 'you're gonna lose' look. "Dean, just give her the keys so we can do this," Sam smirked as he watched us.

I smiled triumphantly when the keys were slapped into my hand. Pocketing them, I gave Dean the thumbs up when he told me, "You got five minutes, tops. Understand? Any longer and I will come break down that door to get my keys." Talk about an over reactive freak. Take his keys away and he's lost forever. As the stall door opened ahead of me, and the woman filed out, I smiled kindly and made my way in – sure to lock the main door behind her just in case Dean did try to walk in. There were two stalls in here, but suck it up ladies, you gots ta wait. I got a semi-psycho brother who will go great lengths to make sure that I don't accidentally drop the keys down the toilet or something. Go figure. After doing my lady duty and washing my hands, I unlocked the main door and came face to face with a very angry station attendant and lady who was holding the hand of a bouncing kid. Oops.

"Uh, the door sticks. You should look into it," I grinned sheepishly before the attendant clicked his tongue and '_suggested_' I '_leave the establishment_'. Right. Walking around the corner, I saw the back to Dean's leather jacket. Well, I sincerely _hope_ that it was Dean's jacket. It would be awkward if I tackled a random stranger to the ground.

Ooh, this idea of a surprise tackle could be fun. I was ninja stalking my way up behind him and was crouched down, ready for the attack when I heard his voice slightly crack. "Please. I need your help, Dad." Whoa, what? My body slowly gained its full height again and I felt my feet shift below me. I heard a faint beep and saw his hand drop to his side and then watched as his other hand made its way to his eyes. Holy crap. Was Dean crying? There was a lump in my throat and my stomach dropped down to my knees, making them wobbly and I didn't know what to do. His back straightened a little bit and I heard a small grunt.

Opening my mouth multiple times, I struggled to make a sound before a small squeak finally came out as I quietly called my brother's name. My eyes went round as he froze and then looked over his shoulder to see who was behind him. "Are… are you okay?"

"What did you hear?"

I stared at him as he turned around and fully faced me, a stern, hard look on his face. "Um… What do you want me to say I heard?" He straightened his posture and adjusted his tight jaw. "I… Dean, I…" What do you say in that moment, huh? Imagine you just found your super tough, protective, gonna raise hell, can take on anything you throw at him big brother crack just a little bit. Would your whole heart shatter? Because I think mine just did. "Look –"

"Just gimme the keys, Bec." I could tell he wasn't irritated, not fully. But he was definitely upset, and he did NOT want to talk about this.

Digging into my pocket and feeling the smooth metal, I gently placed them into his outward stretched hand, but didn't fully let go as he closed his hand around them and ultimately my hand. I wanted to say something. Anything, and as my wet orbs searched his face and green eyes, I couldn't even make that squeak come out again. I don't think I've ever felt so lost on how to asses a situation and handle it. Years ago, I normally would have gone to Sam for help on this, but somehow I don't think that was an option right now. There were a lot of things against the two of us. Lately, I would have gone to Dean. But how do you go to Dean when it is about Dean? How do you help the guy that normally helps you?

* * *

"So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked the owner of Guenther's Auto Repair as Sam was one step behind them and I slowly trailed at the end of the group. After not being able to say anything to Dean and feeling frozen to the spot under his gaze, he'd eventually shook my hand out of his and just mumbled a '_let's go_' before coming around beside me and nudging me to walk with him back to the car. Sam eyed me more than Dean, because Dean is way better at the 'act like nothing's wrong' thing than I am, but no words had been passed between anyone.

The owner was sighing as he tried to fill us in with as much old information he could. "Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh… twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?" Did I forget to mention that we weren't sharing our real identity with anyone other than Jenny and her kids? Unanimous? Not quite, Dean just kind of decided as we walked into the repair shops garage looking for the guy we were talking to now.

"Hey," Sam whispered, stopping me in my tracks from where I'd been keeping close watch on the bit of tar that had peeled off and separated from the rest of the patch down at the approach. "You okay?"

Shooting my eyes from the tar up to Sam's towering frame I pursed my lips and slowly nodded my head – almost sarcastically. I wasn't about to go and tell Sam about what happened with Dean. If I did that, Dean would be pissed. If Dean was pissed, I'd never hear the end of it, and I might be left in Lawrence forever. Maybe another case would be okay to irritate him, but not this one. "I'm fine, Sam."

He shot a glance over to Dean who was still talking with the owner before looking down at me, checking to make sure we weren't being heard. "You sure? Ever since you and Dean came back from the bathrooms, you guys have been awful quiet. Not that I mind the silence, but it's weird."

I looked over to Dean who didn't even seem to have any air about him that something had happened back at the gas station. He wasn't cucumber cool, but he was chilly at least. "Sam, you're trying to read into something that isn't there," I sighed, trying to convince him he was wrong. "Nothing happened. It's just a tough chase, you know?" He searched my eyes, and I inwardly screamed.

In the past Sam could always read me. No matter what, just by looking at my eyes, or my expression, or as he told me one day after school, "_you have a wrinkle on your forehead, you're biting the inner corner of you lower lip, and you're blinking more than normal. And if you keep scratchin' at the side of your thumb, you're gonna be down to the bone. Something is eatin' at you, and you wanna tell someone, so tell me_." That was how in-tune Sam and I had always been. It creeped me out at first, but after realizing that I could tell just as much about him from similar things, it creeped me out even more. From what I'd had told to me by the kids in my class, "_siblings ain't that close, it's just weird_". Sam told me it wasn't weird for us though – because we were trained to look for things like that. And after living in motel rooms and the back of a car for thirteen years, we were bound to pick up on things. Smart kid, my brother. And if his memory about my freaking out was as good as mine was for him – he would know that my insides were clawing to get out and spill my guts to him.

He didn't believe me, and it was because of his facial features and the slight shift at the bottom of his jacket, when his hands went to forms fists, that I could tell. His nostrils flared a little at his deep intake of breath, his lips formed a thin line momentarily, and the lids of his eyes shifted down ever so slightly. "Right," he fumed before he turned and walked over to Dean and the owner. Like we need more problems. I followed behind him, coming in at the part right where the owner talked about how much Dad loved Mom and his kids – us. "But that was before the fire," Sam cut into the conversation.

"That's right," the owner nodded.

"He ever talk about that night?" Sam continued, now on a mission to push my lying to him from his mind.

The owner clicked his tongue as he stuck a hand on his hip to think about it. "No, not at first," he finally stated. "I think he was in shock."

"Right," Sam bit. I elbowed him in the side. He didn't need to take his frustration on me out on this guy. He was pretty much one of our only leads right now. If anyone had good ideas about what Dad was like during that time, this guy might be the best one – considering they _had_ owned the shop together and all. "But eventually?" Sam ignored my jab and pressed deeper. "What did he say about it?"

"Oh, he wasn't thinkin' straight," the guy brushed off. "He said somethin' caused that fire and killed Mary." That would be because something _did _cause that fire and kill Mary, I mean Mom.

It was my turn to ask a question, and I could guess from all the times I'd been told when I was younger that the answer wouldn't change, but I needed to ask anyway. "Did John ever say what it was that killed her?"

Watching me like I was twenty kinds of crazy, the owner shook his head. "_Nothin_' did it," he spoke with such finality, it was no wonder that everyone here believed that story. "It was an accident – an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin'. I begged him to get some help, but…"

"But what?" Dean grunted.

"Oh, he just got worse and worse." '_Just got worse and worse_'? How can you say it like that. Like you feel sorry for the man? Did this owner guy realize what it was that my dad went through on a daily basis? No. Did this man now the truth about what happened in that nursery all those years ago? No. Who was he to judge?

I stiffened my back and puffed out my chest while securing my feet to the ground. "How do you mean "_he got worse and worse_"?"

"Oh! He started readin' these strange ol' books. He started goin' to see a palm reader in town."

"Palm reader?" The surprise and doubt in Dean's voice mimicked the feeling I had inside. I couldn't even look at Sam who was probably still fuming beside me – because if I did, we'd get into it right now. I'd cut his rant off, and I knew he wasn't over the lie. "Do you have a name?"

The owner grabbed the dirty, oil streaked rag off his shoulder and picked up a tool from a nearby tool chest. "No," he shook his head and scoffed at the mere idea.

* * *

Leaning against the Impala, I watched Sam flip through the phonebook that had been sitting in the phone booth. Dean and I were standing outside of the box, waiting for him find the section he'd insisted upon finding. Why, I don't know – but with the way he was practically tearing the pages out as he smacked each one aside, I assumed it was because he could vent his anger this way. Dean looked over at me with his left brow raised and flicked his eyes from the book to my face, silently questioning Sam's sanity. And I don't know why, but the gesture made me laugh – and boy did that actually make me feel better. Sam clenched his jaw tighter as he just flipped even faster through the pages, causing Dean to smirk and me to laugh a little deeper. Dean fixed his stance so that he was standing exactly like Sam's mirror image, and then threw an angry face on, copying Sam's every move. I completely broke out in a laugh that reached to my stomach and made me bend forward. Sam looked over and caught Dean who tried to throw an innocent-guilty smile on – causing me to laugh even more.

"All right," Sam instantly stopped the moment with how he spoke, "so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There's someone named El Divinio. There's, uh," Sam had to stop because he laughed. See, even he knew that Dean was funny. "There's the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley –"

"Wait, wait. Missouri Moseley?" Dean threw a hand on the page, holding it down before Sam could turn the page. "That's a psychic?"

Sam's brows shot up and he leaned back a little, taking the book from under Dean's hand and double checking the page. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Snapping his fingers and pointing to me and the Impala, Dean didn't look at me as he searched the page for the name Sam had mentioned. "Becca, grab Dad's journal from the car, would ya?" I grimaced as he just shook his hand in the air. Opening the door and digging through the mess that I'd created in the back, I finally found the journal tucked away under the front seat. I had barely made it out of the back seat when the journal was snatched from my hand opened. "In the journal… here, look at this." Dean pointed to the inside of the journal. Clicking the door shut and coming to stand next to him, I stood on my tippy-toes and pulled his arm down a little so I could see. "First page, first sentence, read that."

"I went to Missouri and I learned the truth," Sam and I read together before we each furrowed our brows and shot Dean the same confused and slightly lost slash comprehending look.

Dean closed the journal and shrugged after a smile crossed his lips and he shook his head. "You guys still do that, and it still kinda creeps me out. Knock it off. But this," he shook the leather bound book in our faces, "I always thought it was the state."

I snatched the journal from Dean's hand re-opened it, reading the entry again. "That's just 'cause you're dumb."

"I'm dumb?" Dean asked turning to face me with an amused look on his face.

"One of the dumbest," I decided.

"Well, I'd rather be dumb than too tired to walk," he argued.

I looked over the edge of the journal and up to Sam who shrugged, and then down to Dean who tried to look innocent. "That doesn't even make sense."

Dean snatched the journal out of my hands and closed it with a single motion while ruffling my hair. "It will. Let's go, Sammy." Sam walked around the front of the car and climbed in. I had attempted to climb into the back, but Dean spun us and blocked my reach. "You're not comin'," he teased.

"What do you mean I'm not goin'? I'm doin' this case too!" I argued as I continued to try and reach around him.

"Oh, you can do the case – but you're gonna have to walk to Missouri's," he stated pushing me back a few steps via his hands on my shoulders.

I didn't fight the move. "What are you talkin' about? Get outta the way."

Dean held up a hand, stopping me from moving forward. "Okay, fine. You can ride with us instead of walkin' – but you gotta say it."

Shaking my head, I grimaced. I would have started walking the minute he said that, except Sam had the address, and I didn't. "I'm not sayin' it."

"Have a nice walk, then," Dean shrugged before moving to climb into the car and locking the back door. "You know how far we gotta go to get here, Sam?"

Oh man, what if she lived clear on the other side of town? This is a pretty decent sized town – who knows how far that is. "Fine!" I yelled as Dean closed the door and stared through the open window, waiting for me to enlighten him with the magic words. "Dean Winchester is God's gift to women, and should be welcomed, honored, respected, and loved like the amazing man he is. Dear God, oh man, someone help me, I cannot handle this much awesomeness in one city," I spoke with an annoyed, sarcastic, monotone voice – gaining the smirk from him that I knew would come.

"And?"

"And I, Becca Winchester, am lucky to walk the same streets as the Great One. He is in fact, the definition of awesome. Even Batman wishes he was Dean Winchester." Looking from where I'd rolled my eyes skyward, down to where the smirk had grown, I saw Dean lip syncing the words with a whole lot more emotion than I had. "Good?" He stuck a thumb towards the back seat, and I sighed as I finally crawled in through the now unlocked door.

* * *

Bouncing my foot up and down as my one leg sat crossed over the other, I popped the gum I'd been chewing on for the last fifteen minutes. We were sitting in Missouri's waiting room, hall thing, and I was getting impatient. Dean and I had fought over the couch seat, and then we'd knocked each other's feet out of the way multiple times, and some other childish activities, but I'd grown bored – quickly. Extra quickly. Sam had been flipping through some home improvement magazine, seeming totally entertained. He must have been since he's not a cool kid and no one invited him in our reindeer games, so I suppose he did need to find something else to do. Finally, after I'd been hearing the same song play in my mind for what seemed like the hundredth time, a kind voice cut through the air as a shorter black woman led a man through the hallway and towards the front door. "All right, there. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you." She smiled as the man thanked her and then she softly closed the door behind him before she turned to us and sighed, a tired smile coming across her face. "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin' the gardener."

Whoa, doesn't that like go against whatever confidentiality thing these people have? I choked out a laugh at her statement, and then actually started to choke on my gum before a hand clapped against my back from where Dean sat a few feet away. "Why didn't you tell him?" Dean questioned as he continued to clap me on the back a few more times – just for what I'm sure he considered good measure. It felt like I'd just fallen down a flight a stairs. This guy did not know his own strength.

Swatting Dean's hand away the best I could, I listened as Missouri said, "People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news." We all looked at her, a little stunned, and I tried to stifle another laugh. Was this lady for real? "Well? Sam, Dean, Becca, come on already. I ain't got all day," she told us before she wandered into the next room – causing all of us to get up and follow her. "Well, lemme look at ya," she laughed and turned to face us, grabbing my shoulders and slowly moving me to her pleasing. She then grabbed my face in her hands and squished my cheeks, and I saw her eyes grow wet and bright, and a smile spread on her face. "Oh, Becca, you grew up so beautiful!" she let go of me and I stumbled back into Sam, rubbing my cheeks. Then she placed her hands on her hips and looked Sam and Dean up and down. "And you boys grew up handsome," she chuckled before pointing a finger at Dean, "and you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too." I stopped rubbing my cheeks and laughed right in Dean's face and didn't stop when he shot the 'knock it off or Imma kill you' look at me. He turned his glare from me to Missouri who was grabbing Sam's hand. "Sam, oh, honey… I'm sorry about your girlfriend." Hold the phone. What? No one told her about Jessica. "And your father – he's missin'?" Okay, color me freaked the eff out, because I am.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam's voice was breathless and shocked as he removed his hand from Missouri's.

"Well, you were just thinkin' it right now," she chuckled lightly as she explained it to us.

I looked up to Sam who seemed as surprised as the rest of us. So this lady, Missouri Moseley is the real deal. As in there are real psychics in the world – who can read thoughts just by touching you. I feel like I legit learn something new every freaking day. "Well, where is he? Is he okay?" Dean jumped on her immediately.

"I don't know," she sighed to him while shaking her head slightly.

"Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?" he snarled.

"Dean," I whisper-seethed as I kicked the side of his boot. That was way too rude, even for him. If we go insulting the person we are expecting to help us, they aren't gonna be so willing to just give up answers.

Before Dean could slap me or anything, Missouri snapped back at him, just as quickly as he had done to her. "Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air!" Oh, my God. My mouth dropped as the last word came out of her mouth. No one, not even me has told it to Dean like that. Well, I have, but not with that type of authority and 'try me' voice. I argue with him, but this lady, oh my gosh. "Sit, please," she sighed and indicated to the couch behind Sam, who was smirking at Dean being pretty much scolded like a small child. I settled back into the middle cushion, and then slightly froze while pulling my jacket off because Missouri's tone with from the kind request back to snapping. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm 'a whack you with a spoon!"

"I didn't do anything!" he argued, just like I always did to him.

It was amazing to see the tables turned on Dean. "But you were thinkin' about it," she snapped, watching him. "And you can wipe that smirk off your face, young lady, takin' joy in your brother's bein' scolded." Dean's scowl flipped up to a smirk of his own while mine fell into a thin lipped grimace. Okay, so maybe I _don't_ love Missouri Moseley as much as I thought I did.

Crossing my arms and pouting, I settled even farther back and then snapped my eyes over to the side of Sam's face as he leaned forward on his knees. "Okay. So, our dad – when did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say… I drew back the curtains for him," she shook her head as she spoke quietly.

"What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?" Dean's voice broke in, a little on edge.

Missouri looked at us with sad eyes and a soft smile. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."

Dean looked between me and Sam, and I couldn't tell if he was happy with the answer or not. "Could you?" I asked her, just as quietly as she'd spoken just a minute before. "Could you '_sense the echoes_'?" I heard the hope in my voice, and it surprised me a little. A good surprise, I think. I hope.

"I…" Missouri stopped talking and shook her head, seeming upset with either herself, or the memory that was running through her head. Was whatever was in that house really that bad? She couldn't even think about it? I felt a hard lump form in my throat. Not one of those lumps that makes you want to cry – but a lump that tells you that something's not right. Missouri bit her lip and leaned back in her chair, seeming a little upset with herself.

Sam spoke kindly, drawing her eyes from the distant corner they'd gone to, to his puppy dog, expectant face. "What was it?"

"I don't know," she was almost so quiet that I had to focus to listen to her. There was a slight crack as she continued. "Oh, but it was evil," she decided – and from the look in her eyes, there was not a single part of me that doubted her. "So… you three think somethin' is back in that house?"

"Definitely," Sam nodded his head.

"I don't understand," Missouri told him. Well, that makes a total of four of us.

Sam leaned back beside me, resting his one arm on the arm of the couch, and his other along the back of it, behind my head. "What?" All right, so maybe only three of us don't understand.

"I haven't been back in inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin' up now?"

How were we supposed to possibly have an answer to that question? We didn't even know what the heck was going on. That's why we were here. I caught Missouri's hard look and then did everything I could to avoid her eyes. Clearly she'd heard what I had been thinking. Wait, is that how it works? These psychic people things _hear_ peoples' thoughts? Or do they read them? "I don't know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once – it just feels like something's starting," Sam responded.

"That's a comforting thought," Dean sarcastically added.

Well now what? "So what are you three thinkin'?" Missouri's words spoke my thoughts.

"I guess we gotta figure out if whatever is in the house now is what was in it before," I looked between Sam and Dean, seeing if they were in agreement with me.

Dean shifted and started talking to Sam and I, as though Missouri wasn't there. I don't know if it was on purpose – I don't think so. He did it a lot, especially to me or Sam when he was talking to the other one. Meh, call it a character flaw if you want. I call it annoying, and I think Missouri agrees with me more than you. "Well then, you three just let me get my things and we'll go check out that ol' house of yours," Missouri smiled and pushed herself out of the chair.

"Whoa, whoa. You can't just go in there, we don't know what this thing is," Dean stood up, ready to stop her.

"Dean, she's the one that did it before – remember? I think if anyone's gonna be able to figure out what's going on in there, it's gonna be her," Sam told him, also standing up.

"Boy, you're takin' me with y'all to that house. And I don't want 'a hear no fuss about it. Now step out of my way so I can get my things," Missouri stepped past Dean, slightly shoving him aside.

He looked back at Sam and me, where I was now also standing, pulling down the legs on my jeans to straighten them out, and looked offended. Okay, no, I definitely love Missouri Moseley.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-four.**

**Okay! I really wanted to get this last part out to you, and I wanted it to be the whole end of the Home episode, so that I could move onto Asylum when I get the chance. You will understand why, I promise.  
Anywho, this chapter is quite a touch longer than what you are usually reading - apologies.  
I also wanted to pump this out because I really don't know when I can get the next one out, so I wanted to finish the episode before I possibly didn't post for a while.**

**I know that it is midterms for a lot of people right now, so I hope that you all did/do well on them! Good luck!  
Also, I hope you all had/are having/have very good and safe spring breaks! Enjoy that break! Lord knows I am trying, and failing. Ah!  
And I hope your St. Patty's Days were also amazing!**

**I want to let you know that I did try to work in my own angle for Becca on this part. I didn't just ****_replace_**** one character part of the story with her, but I did try to make her have her own struggle. I hope it makes sense. It has been really hard to write this chapter - and I hope you all are enjoying it.**

**Thank you to the readers/reviewers/PMers/adders. You guys are great, and dedicated, and you make me so happy. You are the reason I continue to do what I can to get these out to you. It's all you guys! Totally.**

**Thanks to Jenmm31. She has been a huge help for this. Beyond what you guys even know. She has also been the driving force for me to get this part out, and she knows what I mean by saying that. Go show her love. You can find a quick way over to her page by hitting up the 'Favorites' tabs on my 'Profile'.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer. PS. Poor proofreading. It's late, and I'm not only exhausted, but lazy.**

* * *

"You really think she's just gonna let us back into her house?" I questioned as we all walked down the path leading straight to Jenny's front door.

Dean screwed up his face. "Yeah, she did before."

Rolling my eyes from where I was taking giant steps to match his, I made sure to walk _around_ the stone that could have tripped me. "That doesn't mean anything. She could 'a just done it before 'cause she felt bad for us. It's not like we're best friends with her now or somethin'."

"Well, when we tell her that we wanna show the house to Missouri, I don't think she's gonna tell us no. She trusted us before," he argued.

"Well that's 'cause she doesn't know what's goin' on. She already thinks there are rats in the walls or whatever. You go in there and try tellin' her that we're just 'looking' again, and she's gonna get suspicious," I bit.

Their voices were quiet, but we could still hear Sam and Missouri as they whispered behind us. "Do they always go back 'n forth like this?" Missouri questioned up to Sam.

Sam slightly chuckled and I bet he had a grin on his face when he answered her with, "Yeah. More than you can imagine."

Looking over at Dean, I saw him rolling his eyes and slightly shaking his head, and then we both gave the order for Sam to shut up at the same time. And with the next second we were back to arguing about whether going and asking if we could re-walk around Jenny's house was a good idea or not. "All right, you two, that's enough," Missouri's voice rang through the air above ours, and she pushed herself in between us and used her hand against my back to guide me up the stairs ahead of her.

Almost smacking right into it with how quickly Missouri had moved me, I stopped at the door and knocked a few times. "Becca?" Jenny questioned as Dean and Sam joined Missouri and me on the porch. It hadn't been a super long time since we'd seen her, but she looked tired and like she was on her last nerve. "Sam, Dean. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny," I smiled sheepishly, still not fully committed to this idea. I thought that maybe we should wait. Break in – but Missouri had stated, well scolded, that it was not the neighborly thing to do and that we were going to be decent human beings and get the woman's permission before we went walking through her front door – that had been my idea. Breaking in seemed simpler, and a lot more reliable. But hey, here we are, asking to just walk right in again. "Uh… This is our friend, _long time_ family friend. Missouri," I indicated to the woman standing beside me.

Dean's voice came from over the top of my head, "If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time's sake."

Jenny's blonde head was shaking back and forth before Dean even finished his thought. She was biting her bottom lip and readjusting Ritchie on her hip before she looked over her shoulder with a tired sigh and then faced us all again. "You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy."

Holding out a hand, not in like a mean 'you're gonna do what I say' kind of way, but in a 'you really just need to listen to me, 'cause it's important' way, Dean's arm was shaking over my shoulder as he spoke. "Listen, Jenny, it's important –" and then I heard someone smack someone else, and Dean's words stopped in mid sentence. What the heck just happened.

Looking next to me, I saw Missouri bringing her hand back down in front of her to place it on the purse that hung in front of her. She seemed to be trying to make herself look presentable again as she bobbed her head with the words she threw at my brother. "Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" Then, her voice sweetened up like no other when she turned her focus to Jenny. "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out."

I seriously coughed out a stunned laugh. Not like a 'hahahahahaha, I'm gonna pee my pants' laugh, but a 'did that really just happen, 'cause now this is super awkward and I have to make some sort of noise to respond with' laugh. What was this lady's deal with Dean? God, she was _hilarious_ with how she treated him, but I was starting to feel that maybe it was just a _tad_ unnecessary. Either way, I was laughing, and was probably never ever going to forget how much the respect that Dean had for people was holding him back.

"About what?" Jenny questioned Missouri, almost seeming to not even take her seriously.

"About this house," Missouri informed her.

Oh, holy Hannah. We hadn't even _said_ anything about the house yet! What was Missouri doing right now!? It's not like Jenny just _knows_ that Missouri is a psychic or energy reader, or whatever the right name for it was. I was pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut as I cursed Missouri in my mind. We should have just broken in. Seriously. "What are you talking about?" Jenny asked, not understanding. Freaking told you. Would you be lost? I'd be lost. Freaking Jenny? Lost.

Missouri sighed and stepped a little bit closer to the door, and I got a quick smack to the back from Dean. Like I did something wrong! According to Missouri, he's the stupid one. Not me. Why I am getting hit?! "I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny's eyes narrowed and she looked from over Missouri and my heads and down to our eyes, switching between the two of us a few times. "Who _are_ you?" she asked while slowly rotating her body so that the part Ritchie was on was tucked farther into the house. We're a group of clearly unorganized decisions and game plans. That's who we are. It's basically chaotic over here!

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us, just a little," Missouri tried to tell her. Shockingly enough, Jenny didn't look too assured with the words. Next time I suggest breaking in, we are going to be breaking in. This is brutal.

It must have been by some serious prayer or something – but Jenny let us back into her house, and she listened to everything Missouri told her. Granted, she did laugh in our faces when we told her that we thought that it was something a little more intense than just 'rats'. Regardless though, she let us wander, and our first stop was here, in Sari's room, where the fire covered closet monster lived. It was a cute room, typical young girl's kind of style. Nothing that I could imagine being out of the ordinary. I mean, not that I really had anything to compare it to – my 'room' growing up always seemed to consist of a couple of queen or double beds, a table with a few broken chairs, a 'kitchenette', and a 'living area'. The only thing I had to make any area 'my own' was me, as in my person or body being on whatever – usually the couch. As I wandered to the dresser and was staring at some of the little collected knick-knacks and things, Missouri sighed and slowly spun, looking around the room – worried.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," she breathed.

I was poking at a small clay figurine that I could only guess was a horse… No, cow… Dog? Kangaroo, definitely a kangaroo… I think. "Why?" Sam asked from somewhere behind me. "Becca, you're gonna break that," he huffed.

I huffed back and stood up. How did he know I would break it, huh? I was not going to break it, nor did I break it. "I will not," I told him as I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked from the dresser to the center of the room where the rest of them were standing and looking around.

He just quietly growled in irritation, to which I did a small 'come at me' motion. He then nudged me in the side, which I am sure was supposed to be some sort of sign for me to stop, but I didn't. Instead I kicked the side of his shoe. Then he glared and pinched me hard on the upper arm, causing a small squeak of frustration to come out. Just as I was going to bring my hand to the back of his head, Dean cleared his throat with warning sound, and was telling us to knock it off via his eyes. Missouri was slowly turning to face us again, as she started telling us, "This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." Oh. I think all of us looked up discreetly at the same time, and all I saw was an empty, white surface. I don't know what any of them saw though, and then I brought my eyes down and saw the angry glare that Dean had been giving Sam and me was still on his face before he reached into his pocket. Missouri started walking around, looking throughout the room a little more as Sam stayed kind of frozen to his spot. Dean on the other hand, pulled out the homemade EMF. "That an EMF?" Missouri asked out of nowhere.

"Yeah," he nodded, as he watched for the red lights to spike and the device to squeal.

"Amateur," Missouri muttered. Well that was uncalled for, and she would have known exactly how I felt if she had been looking at the glare I was giving her. It was a glare too, one of my finest. Grr. Not all of us can just _sense_ this crap. Sometimes we needed our big brothers to steal our walkmans and break them to get a certain part so that he could make a homemade ghost sensor. And sometimes we didn't appreciate when our big brothers were so picked on when he was in such a 'delicate' state – especially when it's not _us _doing the picking. I think I may or may not have been going to say something except for there was a small squeaky squeal coming from Dean's hand, drawing my attention to it. "I don't know if you three should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom." Disappointed. I was beyond disappointed. All these years, and then to track it all the way back _here_, and only to have it all _not_ come full circle? It was like something had been dangled in front of our faces. And I almost thought that if the monster had been here, then maybe our dad had been here. But, as we can all clearly see, it and he are not.

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam asked frantically as he looked up from the whining EMF in Dean's hand to Missouri's now facing us form. "How do you know?"

She held out her hands a bit, as though she was welcoming the energy or whatever in for a hug. Her eyes closed and she breathed deeply before pursing her lips. "It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different…"

Really? That's where you leave that? '_It's somethin' different_.' _How_ is it different, Missouri? Use your words. I love you, but God almighty, you are so discreet. "Whaaaaaaat is it?" I drawled out to her, annoyed.

She opened her eyes and snapped them towards me with an icy look, "Don't you give me that attitude, young lady. And it's not an _it_," she hissed as she walked over to the closet and opened the door before going into it and spinning around to face us, "it's a _them_. There's more than one spirit in this place."

As in the closet? Or the house? So now we have double trouble in here? Awesome. "What are they doing here?" Dean asked as he stuffed the EMF back into his pocket and then adjusted his jacket on his shoulders. Sam seemed to be choking back something as I looked up to him, and I saw him swallow what I was hoping was air.

Slowly walking over to him as Dean stepped closer to Missouri, I nudged Sam, "You all right?"

He nodded his head, sternly, completely signaling that he was _not_ okay with this, and our heads snapped up before he could say something as Missouri started to speak again. "They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected."

Well, I guess that makes sense. The evil left a hole, that hadn't closed, and then it got refilled by more evil – that's all I could think of to make sense out of what she just told us. But it was a different evil, and more than one. And we still didn't necessarily _know_ what this evil was. "I don't understand," Sam announced next to me.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead," Missouri explained.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa!" I held my hands up, attempting to stop everything around us. Chills caused my entire body to twitch and momentarily shake. "This thing is out to _kill_ them!? Why! What did they do? I mean, why would it be haunting this house like that? I mean, they – 'cause you said there's more than one. So there's two poltergeists?! I don't understand why it wants them dead…" It didn't seem right in my mind – to kill that mother, and those two kids. Even if Jenny had been the worst person in the world, there was no reasoning in my mind to kill Sari, or even Ritchie. Ritchie was like what, three tops? That's not right. I felt my stomach clench and I felt sick. A bad feeling rose and filled my entire body, and I suddenly didn't want to be here anymore.

Sam's hands were on my shoulders, clenching, as he stood behind me. From the tension in his grip I could tell he was not understanding either. Surprisingly, even for everything that we were dealing with, the clutch was somewhat nice. I felt a little comforted and not _so_ alone in that moment. That and he'd said he didn't understand so… "There is," Missouri cast me some sympathetic eyes, and I found myself swallowing air like Sam had done not even five minutes ago. "I just can't quite make out the second one."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure –," Dean looked over at Sam and me, completely determined and protective, "nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

* * *

I was closely watching Sam while I sat next to Dean at the round table in Missouri's. Sam was glaring everywhere by towards me, and I was slowly drumming my fingers on the table while Dean mixed a bunch of whatever into little black cloth squares. He was passing them over to me, where I was tying them after he'd filled them up. Missouri was digging around behind Sam as a square plopped down in front of me, some of the dirt or whatever spilling onto the table. "You could just _slide_ the stuff over, Dean, 'stead of just dropping it in front of me like that. You're makin' a mess."

"You could be payin' more attention and helpin' me pile this all on here, too," he grumbled as I tied the cloth into a pouch and tossed into the pile we'd created. "What is all this stuff, anyway?" he pressed towards Missouri.

Missouri placed a bottle of something in front of Dean and pointed to each individual ingredient as she named them off. "Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends."

"Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" he continued as he reached over and grabbed some more whatever for his pile of magic baggie mix and then dramatically slid the square over to me.

"Thanks," I told him with just as much sarcasm as the slide held. He gave me a shit eating grin that mixed with that 'bite me' smile, and I rolled my eyes before a light smile of my own appeared.

"We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house," Missouri sat down on the other side of me and watched Dean and I continue our work.

I dropped my newly made pouch onto our slowly growing pile and chuckled when Dean looked at all of us and said, "We'll be punchin' holes in the dry wall. Jenny's gonna love that."

"Yeah, well, if it gets rid of the rats she still thinks are there, I'm not seeing a problem that a bunch of plaster and crap can't fix," I told him as he started yet another square.

Missouri had a sly smile on her lips as she looked up to Dean and me, "She'll live," she told us, causing Dean to double take a glance to her. I just bit my lip and shook my head back and forth.

Sam spoke for what seemed like the first time since we'd left Jenny's. I honestly can't even tell you if he had spoken before now. I think part of him was still standing back there in Sari's room. It was like he couldn't comprehend what he heard, or like, I don't know – but it was kind of freaking me out. "And this'll destroy the spirits?"

I looked over at Missouri, who did her best to sound hopeful. "It should. It shoulder purify the house completely." I went back to waiting for Dean to finish the bag he was working on now, and I looked down to see him bring something to his tongue and taste it – only to shake his head and instantly stick his tongue back into his mouth, just like if he'd been zapped or tasted something super sour. It was actually hilarious. He dropped the dirt or whatever into the pile and slid the cloth over to me, angrily while he messed around with his tongue, trying to get the taste of whatever it was off of it. I struggled to stay respectfully quiet and not burst out in loud laughs while tying the last pouch in front of me. "We'll each take a floor, two of you can take the upstairs – because of the extra rooms. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

"Ya know," I smiled, crossing my arms over the table as I slide the last bag away from me, "for a sweet lady, you're kinda glum, Missouri."

Missouri smiled and lightly tapped my cheek as she cupped a hand to it. "Baby, you have no idea," she told me, causing my smile and bright eyes to disappear. Sweet?

* * *

Okay. North, south, east, and west corners. That's where we have to stick these suckers. I was casually tossing a pouch up and down as I walked into Ritchie's room. There were books and toys all over the floor, and I know it's wrong, but I kicked them out of my way. I could feel the hammer in my hand and I balanced the weight of the handle in my other hand as I walked to the corner and peeked out the window. Well, okay, so the sun is down, and that means I don't know where north is. Wait, there's the moon, so it's rising – so that's east? Yeah. That's how it works. Okay. I got this. Stepping over a giant T-Rex toy, I shoved it out of the way with my foot and I brought the hilt of the hammer to the wall, looking for the spot between the studs. I continued to tap my hammer along the wall until I found it, and a victorious smirk spread across my lips. I told you I got this. I stuffed the pouch into my pocket and I re-gripped the hammer before slamming it against the wall, watching the plaster crack. Continuing to bang the hammer against the wall, I froze for a second and turned around. I am pretty sure I just heard something moving in this room. I searched around the whole room. Everything seemed fine, besides, Sari's room is the haunted one, right? This one was fire monster free. I went back to breaking the wall when I definitely heard things move, and spun around, seeing dresser drawers and a crib barreling towards me. What kind of shit is this!? Haunted baby bed? Aw hell. I quickly tried to make the small hole bigger and then grabbed the pouch from my pocket. Just as I grabbed it, the crib collided with my back, sending my body into the wall, and the pouch onto the floor. I was pinned and it was a struggle to move. It was like I could feel the pressure in my body as each dresser drawer slammed into the crib, and then there was a heavier pressure, pushing my body deeper against the wall as something heavier slammed into the crib. My left hand was squished between my face and the wall, and my right was stuck, no longer holding the hammer as the crib sat against my wrist, holding it to the wall. Whatever heavy objects had hit the crib before slid against the floor and re-slammed against the crib, pushing me against the wall again, as if slamming me itself. I did my best to drag my left arm around me to reach down into my jacket pocket, searching for the other pouch I was sure I had in there.

"SAM!" I yelled as I tried to twist my body so that my arm could reach the pocket that sat beneath the upper rim of the moveable crib side. The heavy pressure slid away from the crib and slammed into it once more, and I groaned as I swear I felt a rib crack. "SAM!" I screamed again, not sure why he wasn't answering. I coughed as the pressure disappeared and then re-appeared once more, and I clenched my teeth – realizing what it was I had to do. I didn't want to do it though. It would be painful, and I really couldn't be sure that I had the strength to go up against the killer crib right now. "DEAN!" I screamed, a shriek coming through this time as I yelled. The pressure slammed against my back again, and I groaned, positive that if this crib wasn't holding me here, I'd collapse right to the floor. I squeezed my eyes as pain radiated from my midsection, and I bit the inside of my bottom lip, tasting blood and preparing myself. "DEAN!" I bellowed, hoping that this one last chance would be my savior. I wiggled the fingers on my right wrist when no one came into the room. These assholes better have a really good reason for not freaking coming and helping me from the baby room of pain. I felt the repeated slam of the force behind the crib and I bit my lip once more, increasing the small blood flow, and I took a sharp intake of breath as the slam appeared. Three...… two...… one. I exhaled as hard as I could as the drag against the floor started, and I pulled as hard as I could on my arm, feeling the pinch as the hand and wrist struggled to get out of the small bars of the crib. The pain was intense, and every pain sensor in my body was telling me to quit, but I couldn't. The slam against my back came with a quick force and then the drag as it pushed away from the crib sounded again, and I did my best to pop my wrist from between the bars.

I don't know how long it took, but I was finding my breathing to be increasingly difficult by the time my wrist and hand popped from between the bars and was now strictly between the crib side and the wall. I pulled up as hard as I could while receiving numerous amounts of slams to my back, and head butts to the wall in a reflexive response. I was definitely struggling to breath, and I feel like there was now a Becca sized indent in the wall, and I was consistently spitting blood and wall chips out of my mouth. Putting all the force I could behind my tug, I managed to snap my wrist up from its prison, and felt a sharp jolt spread from a space between the wrist connection and my elbow as the crib slammed against me once more. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to reach my right arm up and stuck my hand into my pocket to grip this stupid, mother effing pouch. I slammed my right hand up against the wall as the crib slammed against me once more, and I heard Dean yell Sam's name in the distance.

"DEAN!" I screamed as loud as I could. Lifting my head against the wall, I slid my left hand past my face, and grabbed the pouch from my right hand, noticing a large rise in the surface of my right arm about two inches past the wrist. Holy shit, it's broken. Like snapped, in half, I'm sure of it. My left arm slid down the wall, slowly, feeling for the hole that I could only assume was about the same height as my abs, and I squeezed my hand in between my stomach and the wall the best I could as the force behind me continued to come and go like it was on a bungee cord. My finger tips just reached the edge of the hole, and they worked the pouch into the wall as fast as they could, and when the bag was finally fully tucked into the wall, I had to squeeze my eyes shut as a blinding white light filled the room. The minute the flash disappeared, the pounding on my back stopped and the force keeping me pinned to the wall was no longer there. I slowly felt the my body respond and push away from the plaster, and I think every bone and muscle in my system cried, along with me.

"Sam! Dean!" I coughed as the crib rolled away against my shove, and I collapsed to the floor. I was pretty much a heap on the floor, resting my forehead against the wall, cradling my right arm with my left as I breathed deeply, my entire chest and body in pain. It wasn't too long that there was the sound of things being shoved and kicked and thrown out of the way, and then the crib disappeared completely from behind me.

There was a body beside me, but I didn't open my eyes or move my head to see who it was. I was trying to focus and steady my breathing at this point, and with each breath, it felt like my lung was unfolding, like an accordion. "Hey, hey, Becca, you okay?" the voice asked from where they sat.

Continuing my deep, painful breaths, I didn't shake or nod my head. "I think...… I am...… Dying...…" I huffed out as strong as I could.

"Come on, let's get you up," Dean ordered as his arms wrapped around my chest and waist and slowly pulled me up.

"My wrist!" I cried as he pinned it against my side.

His arms quickly moved, and he steadied me on my feet next to him, and I felt him gently take my arm in his. "Bec, this arm is broken. I'm 'a have to fix it, you know that."

I pursed my lips. I did know that. But now was not the time. When we get back to the motel or Missouri's or wherever, but not now. "Where's Sam?" I breathed clutching my right arm to my chest and my left arm around my torso.

"I got him downstairs, he's sittin', waitin' for us," he told me as he began to help me walk out of the room – and I gotta say, my steps were weak and slow.

"He okay?"

"I gotta say," Dean chuckled, clearly trying to lighten the mood, "he looks as bad as you. I thought you guys were trained better than this? You two can't even take on lamps and cribs now?"

The room was destroyed. There were books and clothes everywhere, and I saw that the thing that continued to slam against the crib that was now completely broken in the back, was the dresser. The thick, long, heavy dresser that was missing all its drawers. I groaned as we made it out of the room and towards the hall. "Hardy har har, Dean. I seriously think I'm dying though."

"I'll let you know if you can die, Bec," he grimaced while slowly making the turn to go down the stairs with me.

"_If_ I can die? As in I'm not allowed to?" my breath came out in a hiss with each step, and I soon found myself more or less kind of _carried _down the steps, and not so much _walked_ down them.

Dean's lighthearted smile came back and he looked at me with those bright eyes that always showed was in a good mood. "Not today."

I smiled back at him, as much as I could, and allowed him to lead me into the kitchen were Sam was walking out of it, practically bumping right into us and knocking us over. "Becca?! Are you – are you okay? What happened? Is that _broken_?!"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, cowboy," I grimaced as Dean led us over to Missouri who was quickly bringing over a fallen chair. "Thank you," I told her as Dean helped me to sit down in it. "Missouri, you sure this is over now? I don't think I could survive doin' that again. I barely got it done the first time."

"I'm sure, baby," she told me with a warm voice and smile.

"You're positive?" Sam re-questioned while Dean was gingerly examining my arm in his own.

"Why? Why do you ask?" Missouri asked him, not understanding.

I watched Sam, seeing him look completely let down and defeated as he looked at my broken arm in Dean's hands. "Never mind," he sighed. "It's nothin' I guess."

Just as he finished his thought, we heard the front door open and Jenny's voice rang through the air, announcing they were back. She stepped into the kitchen with Sari right beside her, and Ritchie on her hip, before both of their mouths fell to the floor. "What _happened_?"

Sam was instantly trying to calm down whatever anger he was anticipating because he walked over and smiled kindly while Dean turned my arm over, surveying the damage to the underside of my arm. "Hi, sorry. Um, we'll pay for all of this," Sam told her before Dean and I both looked at him like was crazy. Which he is. How does he expect us to pay for this!? I had a broken arm for sure, probably a million broken ribs, and I almost positive that this time I seriously popped a lung and or kidney.

"Don't you worry," Missouri cut in before Jenny could say something. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess." Whoa, what? Doesn't she see him making sure I am not dying here? I vote someone else cleans up the mess! "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop!" Dean shot me a very annoyed, very pissed off, very comment filled look before he set my arm back into my left hand and got up to go find a mop. "And don't cuss at me!" I could heard Dean muttering as he walked away.

* * *

So it was pretty much a Winchester decided vote that I had indeed broken ribs and my wrist. However, Dean and Sam both thought I was being over dramatic when I told them my theory about having popped a vital organ in my torso. Either way, I was sitting back here, wrapped up tighter than you can probably imagine. There were ace bandages around my chest and stomach, and wrist. But to go along with the ace bandage on my wrist was Dean's makeshift splint. He said it was temporary until we got me to the hospital, but apparently my health is not as important to Sam as it is to me, because We were sitting in the Impala, outside of Jenny's house.

"Whyyyyyy are we here, Sam?" I groaned out in a wheeze.

"I don't know. I just… I still have a bad feeling," he told me.

Glaring at the back of his head, I did everything in my power to not mess with the stupid boards surrounding my arm that Dean had snapped back into place earlier. He was convinced he'd done it right, and my kick to his stomach disagreed. It was instinctive. It wasn't like I _wanted _to kick him in the gut – it just happened. "Huh," I stuck my tongue in my cheek. "Does the bad feeling feel anything like me pulling your hair out? Because I'm about to do it. This is ridiculous. Can we please just go to the hospital so I can get fixed, and get lots of sleepy drugs so I can pass the eff out right now? I need pain killers, stat."

"You are a pain," Sam tried to groan quietly – but I heard him.

Dean didn't allow me to respond though, and Sam's lucky he didn't. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over. She told you it was over – twice."

And she did, and I know, 'cause I was there. "Yeah, well, probably! But I just wanna make sure, that's all," Sam argued angrily.

"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now, and Becca could be doped up on pain meds and have a real cast on right now," Dean snapped back. Here here! I agree! I stuck my tongue out to the back of Sam's head in a triumphant way as Dean slid down in his spot, probably trying to get some sleep. And I do not blame him. I was exhausted too, and I wanted sleep just as much, except my body was in too much pain to allow that.

Sam's door flew up, causing my body to jump, and then a cry of pain to escape my lips. "Guys! Look, Dean!" Sam slapped and shook Dean before charging from the car to the house.

I did the best I could to follow behind, and Dean ordered for me to stay back, which I yelled a 'yeah right' to, and struggled to run with. When I finally reached the door and made my way through it, Dean yelled at me from where he was running up the stairs. "Becca, Sam's gonna get the kids, you help him get them out of here!"

Pushing past the pain as much as I could, I forced myself up the stairs and around the corner into the side of Sam who shoved Ritchie into my arms and then darted into the room for Sari. I could hardly hold Ritchie up with my sides and arm taped up, and the minute that Sari appeared with Sam, I pushed Ritchie off onto her. "All right, Sari, take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back. Becca and I are gonna be right behind you. She nodded and headed down the stairs right behind me. We were about ten steps from the front door when a crash sounded and I looked behind me, over my shoulder, seeing Sam slide away on the floor, in the direction of a totally different room. I pushed Sari along, yelling for her to continue, while I darted back towards the room I'd seen Sam disappear in to.

It was like there was an invisible force in the room, and I watched Sam fly into a set of cabinets, only to fall to the ground in a pile. "Sam!" I yelled as I made my way over to him, helping him stand. The second he was to his full height, and caught my eyes, it felt like a huge force shoved us away from each other in opposite directions and into the walls. Coughing, I tugged and pulled and pushed against the wall and force, and found that I couldn't move a single muscle. Nothing would even budge. I felt the panic run through my veins, and I looked over to Sam, to see him coming to the same conclusion I was. We were stuck here, and there was no way to get out. Suddenly, the fire covered closet monster was in the middle of the room, looking back and forth between us, and I saw it make a few steps towards me.

"Hey! HEY!" Sam screamed at it, causing the monster to stop and turn to him. It then moved away from me and started to get closer to him, as I pulled against the wall the best I could.

"No, you leave him alone!" I yelled.

As the figure closed the distance between Sam, I heard Dean's voice calling out for us, and then he appeared from around the corner, a gun raised.

"No, don't! Don't!" Sam yelled at Dean, causing him to freeze.

What was he doing!? "What?!" I screamed as Dean yelled, "Why?!"

Sam wasn't even angry or scared any more. He seemed shocked and yet relieved. "Because I know who it is," he breathed out, not blinking as he stared at the fiery figure in front of him. "I can see her now."

Her? So the monster has a sex now? The fire slowly seemed to suck up into the middle of the being and I found myself looking the back of a very blonde, very curly head. It was a woman, standing in a white nightgown, staring up at Sam.

I flicked my eyes over to Dean where his gun was slowly lowering to his side. "Mom?" his voice was barely above a whisper as the figure turned to face him. No, what? Mom? What? No. I couldn't think straight. Was this lady thing really our _mom_? Like Mom, mom? No, what?

"Dean," the woman spoke, turning to face Dean. I was lost and confused and conflicted and watched as Dean seemed to struggle with the concept of staring at this woman. Then she walked away from Dean and over to Sam, and I followed her with my eyes. "Sam." I looked up above her where Sam was looking like he was crying. I felt a lump rise in my throat. There was no way. The blonde head slowly turned to face me, and then I saw what my brothers had. It was, in fact, my mother. Not in a picture, not in some story, or memory, or whatever. She was here, and she was real. And she was walking towards me, where I was continuing to struggle. I didn't know why I was struggling, but I was, and my breathing was quickening, and I felt a panic seeping into my system again. What was this? "Becca," she spoke softly while looking at me. She looked proud, and I saw a smile creep onto her face that caused my entire body to relax. I couldn't form a single word to get out to her, and I don't even know if I was crying. I was standing there, watching her with shock. This woman, who I didn't remember ever seeing, who I didn't remember ever hearing her voice, who I knew nothing about… This woman, my _mother_, was standing here, and all I could think about was that my dad wasn't here to see her, and that Dean was feeling that pain of seeing her again. My mouth opened and closed and I saw her smile fall. The panic set back into my system – as though I'd just let her down, or disappointed her in some crazy way. I wanted to pull her back, tell her I was sorry, but I couldn't move as she turned away. "I'm sorry," she looked back towards Sam, who looked confused.

"For what?" he questioned.

She didn't answer him though. She just walked away, past Dean and looked up to the ceiling, and my eyes followed hers. I didn't get it. There was nothing there! I looked back down to her, and then to the ceiling, willing, praying, _hoping_ to see whatever it was she did. "You get out of my house," she ordered up towards the blank ceiling. "And let go of my children." Just as quickly as the flames had disappeared before, they came back and swallowed her up.

I felt my eyes widened and I didn't know if I was screaming or not, but I heard a scream, and then the fire and my mother disappeared, and I fell to the floor – completely unprepared for it. Sam came and helped me up, with Dean right behind him. As they steadied me, and I tried to steady my breathing, Sam looked at us. "Now it's over," he told us. Except now I was freaking out, thinking that it wasn't. I just saw my mother go up in flames. Whether I knew her or not, it happened, right there, ten feet away, and that would be burned in my mind forever.

* * *

Staring straight ahead, I saw Dean talking with Jenny as they looked through a box of photos that she said she'd collected for us. I lifted my properly casted arm up to scratch at my nose, thankful that Sam and Dean had decided that it was the right time to finally go to the hospital after what had happened the night before. The doctor had to re-break my arm, and I was _NOT_ a happy camper, and he found out when I kicked him in the stomach too. The teal cast was bright in the sun, and I dropped my arm against my stomach, where the tightly wrapped bandages seemed to be holding all of my fears and feelings inside of me. "Hey, Sam?" I whispered, not turning to face him as he sat next to me on the porch of the house.

"Yeah?" he asked just as quietly.

"I just –" the door behind us opened up and Missouri stepped out, causing us to both rise up and meet her.

Closing the door behind her, she looked at us both, relieved but sympathetic. "Well, there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure."

Sam looked at her as I bit my lip. "Not even our mom?"

"No."

We all just stood there in silence, and the question was eating me up inside to the point that I literally burst and the question came flying out of my mouth in a single jumble of syllables. "What happened?"

It almost seemed like she didn't even want to tell us what happened, but she smiled and motioned for us to head down the stairs ahead of her. "Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy, they cancelled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself goin' after the thing."

"Why would she do something like that?" Sam and I belted at the same exact time, causing her to smile after recovering from being a little startled. Sam and I didn't even seem to notice as we waited for a response.

She ushered us along across the street to Dean and Jenny. "Well, to protect her babies, of course." I saw Missouri reach out to touch Sam, and then pull back. "Sam, I'm sorry," she told him quietly.

"For what?" he choked past a sob, causing me to clutch his hand with my casted claw. It was awkward, but I know the gesture comforted him, because I could feel the squeeze on my fingers.

"You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't," she announced.

My eyes widened. He _sensed_ it? Like Mom's energy? He could tell she was there? "What's happening to me?" he breathed out past another choked sob.

"I know I should have all the answers, but I don't," she sighed, shaking her head and smiling sadly.

We had finally arrived to the Impala, and Dean looked over to us. "You guys ready?" he questioned as he opened my door for me.

I didn't move, I just stared at the spot he'd stuck that box full of pictures in. "Dean, do you think you could put that in the trunk? Just for now?" I whispered, not tearing my eyes away from him. He didn't answer, but just slowly moved around me and grabbed the box, removing it from my eye sight before I climbed into the middle of the back seat and stared straight ahead – completely oblivious to anyone else around me. Sam felt the energy of my dead mother, who I saw not only come out of a flame, but also disappear into one. And she was gone. Like, more gone than before. She was forever gone this time – and it was weird because I didn't even know she had been not really gone to begin with. My head was spinning, and all I could keep thinking was that Sam could sense the energy. Sam could sense the energy, when the psychic who our father had gone to for answers couldn't. I didn't know if it was good or bad, all I knew was that it was happening, and no one knew any answers about it. Sam and Dean finally crawled into the car, and I'm sure they each turned to check on me to see if I was okay, but I didn't even really register they were there. I couldn't. Because Sam had sensed the energy of our mother – and I felt more confused now, than any other day of our life. I felt lied to almost, like he had some hidden secret that no one knew about. And although I knew it wasn't _true_ or _right_, I found a new anger towards my twin, and I didn't know how to get rid of it.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-five.**

**I wasn't actually planning on getting this out to you guys before next week, but because of the week I have had, I decided, "F*ck it, I'm on spring break and homework can suck it." So, you're welcome. I don't know for sure when the next update will be, but I'll do my best.**

**Thank you to those of you who continue to review and PM me, you are seriously the nicest people. And I've actually come to see (in other stories) that people can seriously leave really horrible comments. I want to thank you all so much for ****_not_**** being like that. You guys have all said such wonderful things, and I think each of you are wonderful human beings, and deserve recognition for that. Thank you!  
Thank you to the adders! I love that you enjoy this story enough to add it to your lists, I truly appreciate it.**

**Extra thanks to Jenmm31 for helping me out with this. I was struggling, and she steered me right back to where I needed to be. Hope I made up for the delay in updating.**

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Leave 'em in a PM or a review and I will do my best to contact you back and answer them all.**

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**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Lightly rubbing the pads of my fingers along my head and then running my fingers through my wet hair, I threw my wet towels over the shower rod and then dropped my toothbrush back into my container of bathroom things. Clicking off the light and opening the door, I emerged from the bathroom, followed by steam and a humidity that instantly died at the coolness of the other room's air. My entire body shook in response, but only for the good side of a few seconds. Padding my way over to where Dean was sitting at the table, leafing through Dad's journal, I ignored Sam completely before grabbing the beer bottle that Dean had surely been drinking out of.

I felt the smirk cross my lips as the rim of the bottle tipped up and the liquid quickly slid down my throat. "Uh, what the hell are you doing?" Dean turned in his chair and smacked a fist to his hip as he shot that '_you wanna tell me what you're doing_' look into his eyes and over his face.

Shrugging I set the bottle back onto the table and intended to go and sit down on the other side of the table. "I was thirsty, and the fridge is all the way over there. I improvised, and I was really, really good at it too. Thanks for the beer, homie."

"One, don't call me homie. Two, I meant what the hell are you doing with that outfit on?" He nodded his head towards my body, causing me to frown and furrow my brows before I looked down.

Gripping the bottom hem of my white tank in my hands, I pulled it away from my semi damp skin. So I didn't really dry myself off as much as I could have, but my hair was still kind of wet too, so I think that probably counts for some of the extra clinging. Twisting my upper half and looking down to my freshly shaved and lotioned legs, I stuck out my hip a bit to double check my pink and orange plaid shorts. "I don't get it." I told him through an exhale while my hands shot up into the air in an '_I give up_' sort of way.

"Don't you think that's a little _tight_?" he pressed, as though he was trying to give me some sort of hint towards the ultimate clue or something. I don't know why, it's not like we were playing _Pyramid_ right now. I don't need clues, I need him to use his words.

"For sure. I chose this outfit, specifically because it's tight, homie. Gotta dress in the _tightest_ threads. I'm fresh to death, yo," I joked as I crossed my arms over my chest and bent my body, creating a '_leaned back_' effect, and then pursed my lips, as though I was cool.

Dean's arm bent and his elbow landed on the table before his index finger pointed at me. He seriously looked like the other brother who is all '_tell your date that if he even touches you I'm gonna make him eat his own blah blah blah, I'm a man's man, and your date will be scared – fear me boy who wants to kiss my sister_', and it actually made me stand up straight again. "I don't know what you just said, but stop calling me homie. I mean _tight_ as in, to your skin. You need to go cover up before people start to talk."

Rolling my eyes, I ran my hand through my wet hair again, and brought it all to flop over to my right side as I sat across from Dean and brought my legs both up in front of, and underneath me on the seat. "Dude, it's us and Sam. Who the hell is gonna talk? The friggen dust bunnies under the couch?"

"What if someone came in here?" Dean threw out there as he turned and crossed his arms before setting them on the table as he spoke to me.

"You throwin' a party or something?" I questioned with an upraised brow as my one hand ran up and down my smooth leg. Don't judge me. I feel all over my legs after I shave. It's so smooth and addictive, and I totally get why men like those razor commercials. If my legs felt like this all the time, I'd love lady legs too. Shooting me a look that told me I was an idiot as he sucked on his bottle of beer, Dean just shook his head. "Exactly. It's not like I'm going out of my way to impress someone or something. They're seriously just pajamas. Calm down, Papa Bear."

Dean leaned back in his chair and stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Who dresses like that for bed?"

Throwing my '_you're kidding right, 'cause you're not really this dumb_' look onto my face, I stared up at him. "Tons of people, Dean. Besides, most nights you wear a tee shirt and your underwear. I've probably seen _you_ in underwear more than I've seen myself in underwear. Why does it even matter what I wear to bed?"

"I'm just sayin' is all," he threw his hands in the air, as though surrendering, as he got up and grabbed two beers from the mini fridge.

I watched him with uncertain eyes as he opened the bottles and set one on the table in front of me before he sat back down and started drinking from his. "Right. Is this some sort of stab or something about the way I dress? Because, you're soundin' a lot like Sam, and I just showered – but I will tackle your overgrown gorilla ass to the ground if I have to."

"Look," Dean cut his voice low before he looked over at Sam who was on the phone and sitting on one of the beds across the room. "I'm just _sayin_' that _some people_ might judge you on your clothes. And I know it causes some issues. I couldn't care less what the hell you wear to bed. Just as long as you wear _somethin_' 'cause I _definitely_ don't need to see any more skin than _that_ on you," he tipped and moved the bottle in his hand around, indicating to where I sat across from him. A highly arched brow sat over his eye and he looked from me to Sam and back again before sipping, and sliding the journal back in front of him and into his lap.

I looked over to Sam who was still not even looking at either of the people at the table. He and I had hardly talked since Lawrence. You can probably say it was more my fault than his. Okay, so it was _definitely_ more my fault than his. I just really didn't know how to talk to him at this point, and instead of having a huge blow up every time I did get annoyed with him, which was almost every time he talked to me, I just gritted my teeth and spoke to him as little as possible. He, in retaliation, had gone back to making digs about my clothes and comments in the same general area of douchebaggary. We were pretty much ready to kill each other, and Dean kept doing what he could to keep our fighting to a minimum. Granted, that meant for a lot of stupid conversations like this, but at least he was trying. I crossed my arms over my chest and chewed on my tongue as the anger of Sam's possible and probable thoughts came into my mind. I looked back at Dean, a hard stare on my face as he slightly shrugged. Swiping my left hand fast in front of me, and clutching at the bottle that Dean had given me, I brought it to and from my lips angrily. I wish he would say something, 'cause this time, I've got a cast to beat him with. Just as I'd set the bottle back down and opened my mouth to speak, Sam sighed loudly and ended whatever call he'd been on.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean's voice was louder than it had been when we were talking, and his eyes flicked up from the journal in his lap to Sam who hadn't been looking at anything except the wall across from him.

Turning to face Dean, and throwing a sarcastic smile on his face, Sam scoffed. "Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?"

Dean leaned back in his chair and picked the journal up and then dropped it to the table between us. "No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out…" Dean threw a hand in the air towards the book, signaling not only towards it, but annoyance, "I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggen Yoda."

I choked on my beer at the line. Using the thumb on my right hand, which was still bandaged, I wiped the small trail of liquid that had made its way out of my mouth and down my chin. "Yoda isn't that hard to figure out, here," I waved over towards myself, asking for him to slide the journal towards me. "I'll try to see if I can find something. Maybe you've just been lookin' at it for too long." I sipped at my beer one last time before setting it down as Dean pushed the leather bound book closer to me with a '_have at it_' expression. I smiled and resituated myself on the chair, pulling the book closer, flipping absently through the pages and randomly scanning a few things on each before I decided a page looked good enough to start with, and setting my finger down on the first line – ready to find some information.

"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's," Sam suggested as he dropped his cell down on the bed beside him.

I rolled my eyes and went back to looking through the journal, which was proving to be way more difficult than I'd anticipated. How could someone follow this? Seriously, "_to which silver – stab – heart; northeastern coast; winter; 1946-86 2xJanuary-4__th__; P_," what did that even mean? You had to stab something in the heart with silver? Okay, that I got. And it showed up along the northeastern coast in winter? Sure. That I could see. But the dates? That I didn't get, or the P. And that was honestly the easiest entry on this page. And that included the squiggles and swirls and other doodles that were littered all over the page. Dean was wrong though. This was not like Yoda. Yoda I could understand – this I could not. I clicked the book shut as Dean sighed and swigged his bear before turning to Sam. "We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." And he had a point.

"I don't care anymore," Sam argued finally turning his whole body and getting aggravated as he glared at the table.

"Oh, right, because now we just do whatever _Sam_ wants regardless of whether or not it is the right thing to do," I spat as I whipped my head around to face him while a phone started ringing and Dean got up with an irritated growl to answer it when Sam and I didn't move.

Sam slapped a hand to his knee as he rolled his head back and stuck a tongue in his cheek. "I don't see you throwing any ideas out here! You wanted to find him too, not that long ago, and now you're just giving up."

I leaned my left arm on my up-bent knee and palmed my forehead, rubbing my fingers back and forth along it roughly, trying to just make all the anger go away. "I am not '_just giving up_', Sam. But I can't just sit around and make phone call after endless phone call only to get nowhere. How is that helping anyone?"

"How is us not doing anything helping? After everything that happened back in Kansas?! He should have been there! Dean, you said so yourself! You tried to call him and nothing!" Sam bit turning from me to Dean who was digging around in his duffel for the phone that was still ringing. Apparently, Sam wanted Dean to immediately answer his ranting because when no response came, he just yelled out, "Are you even listenin'!?"

"I know!" Came a very angry snarl from Dean as he dug deeper into the bag. "Where the hell is my cellphone?!"

Sam just shrugged his shoulders and gave me a dirty look before telling me, "You know, he could be dead for all we know," with an accusatory tone – as if it was my fault or something.

My eyes widened and I snapped my head up from where I'd been shoving my palms, well _palm_ and cast, into my eyes. "Why would you even say that? You think this is some sick joke or something? You're not funny, and Dad is _not_ dead!"

"Don't say that!" Dean bit as he practically ripped the bag to shreds as he began to pull things out and throw them to the floor around him. "He's not dead! He's – he's…"

"He's what? He's hiding? He's _busy_?" Sam continued, seeing how much he was irritating not only me, but Dean, and since his goal had been to push all of our buttons lately – he just kept on pressing.

I watched as Dean finally got a hold of his phone and flicked it open. "Of course he's busy, you moron! He's always busy! You think he would just not answer our calls if he wasn't? C'mon, Sam! Right, Dean?" I turned my head in hopes that he would agree with me and Sam would just shut up so I didn't have to hear his voice anymore.

Sam and I both watched Dean, waiting for him to join in on the conversation and join a side. And as Dean's mouth fell open, I expected him to tell Sam to shut up so that everyone knew I was right, but I was instead let down as a quiet, "Huh" filled the air. "I don't believe it," Dean muttered as he looked at the screen of his phone.

"What?" Sam and I questioned at the same time, both surprised at his lack of emotion or action.

Dean looked up at us with a small smirk before holding his phone up and staring at it with a shake of the head. "It's uh… It's a text message. It's coordinates."

No one really moved outside of Dean who instantly threw himself into the chair and opened Sam's computer. "Wait… You're sure they're coordinates?" I shook my head, trying to grasp the fact that my father had just texted my brother. Two things popped into my head at the same time. One. Sam was effing wrong, and I was right, and my dad was alive – and I felt relief spread through my system. Two. Effing coordinates? He sent us coordinates? After everything, he was just shoving us along? Dean just continued to click away on the computer as he slid the cell across the table and over to me. Grabbing it, I looked at the message.

_42, -89_

Well hell, they are coordinates. "You think _Dad_ was texting us?" Sam shot out of nowhere.

"Who the hell else could it have been?" I quipped as I put the phone back down, on top of the journal. "I mean, he's given us coordinates before."

"It's not like the guy's tech savvy or anything. The man can barely work a _toaster_," Sam continued, making my blood boil with each dig he sent into the air.

"Who cares!? It's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least," Dean cut in, looking at us, clearly annoyed with the continuing arguments. His eyes held as much relief as I'd felt too though, and there was hope behind the relief.

Sam dropped his eyes as though he felt guilty, and I felt a small pang of it fill my own system. There was a small silence that was only filled with the clicks of Dean's fingers hitting the keys and mouse pad. "Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked with what seemed like no anger.

Dean and Sam both looked to me and I grabbed the cell with a sigh, double checking the message. "Um… Nah," I huffed while shaking my head and checking the properties of the message, just in case. "It's says '_Unknown_'."

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam's voice was gaining a little more edge, and I could tell he was growing impatient and wanted answers so that we could move as quickly as possible.

"That's the interesting part," Dean answered him as I exited out of the message after locking it in the phone. I clicked the phone shut and leaned over the table and sipped from my beer. "Rockford, Illinois," Dean eyed me and then Sam, before turning the computer.

I scrunched up my brows, and looked at him like he was crazy. "Why is that interesting?"

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this," Dean double clicked onto a link from whatever screen he'd been on, showing Sam and I his findings. I leaned closer to the screen, looking at what he was showing me, as Sam came up and stood over me, also scanning at what Dean had found. "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."

I sat back and caught Dean's eye. Quickly flipping open the journal, I began flipping through the pages as quickly as I could, looking for something that I'd seen earlier. "Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam was asking as he continued to look at the screen of the laptop.

I was continuing to scan pages for the words as I spoke, not looking up to meet his gaze that shifted from the screen to me. "Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see, I know I saw it earlier when I was flipping through here. Ugh!" I cried as I continued to struggle because of the cast on my hand.

Dean pushed the laptop closer to the edge of the table where Sam stood and reached past it to the journal, sliding it to sit directly in the middle of us. "Here," he found the page and slid the book back over to me with a small smile before grabbing his beer.

Shooting Dean a thankful grin I pulled the book right in front of me and dragged my finger down the page to where I needed to be. "Right. Okay. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths –"

Dean cut me off and indicated to the computer again with his beer bottle. "'Til last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."

Sam's head instantly shot up to Dean with a snort. "This is a _job_… Dad wants us to work a job." The way he said it made it seem like the entire idea was nothing more than a complete insult to him.

I was losing my patience, and quick. It was like no matter what you said or did, Sam was never satisfied with the answer you gave him. He always wanted more, and he always wanted things to go his way. "And what if it's not just a job? What if he wants us to meet up with him there? What if we finally found him like you've been bitching about for the last however long?"

"And what if none of that happens? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing," Sam bit back to me with a glare that I matched.

"Who cares!?" Dean cut in, angrily. "If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!"

"Me too," I agreed nodding to Dean who held his hand out in a way that said, '_See_?'

Sam stood up, throwing his hands in the air, "This doesn't strike you guys as weird? The texting? The coordinates?"

"Sam!" Dean yelled, causing Sam to jump and me to twitch and look at him with wide eyes. "Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're _goin_'," he ordered, only to earn a complete bitch face from Sam who then sighed and made his way into the bathroom with a slam of the door.

Silence consumed Dean and me, and the tension that had been in the room lingered, making it awkward because it wasn't us that had the tension with each other. "So… uh… about this trip…" I broke the silence as I spun my finger around the opening of my beer bottle. Dean's eyes shot up to my face, like he was waiting for me to argue with him like Sam had. "I was just wondering when you were plannin' on heading out…"

He stood up and grabbed the empty bottles off of the table before walking over and dropping them into the trash can next to the mini fridge. He then reached and grabbed another beer, offering one to me, which I shook my head in a no thanks fashion. "You tryin' to say we shouldn't go now too?" he continued to eye me while opening the bottle and dropping the cap into the garbage.

I shook my head quickly, as though trying to let him know that was not my intention. "I was just thinking. I mean, I'm already in my pajamas which _technically_ makes me ready for bed. And this room is already paid for and everything… And I was plannin' on taking over Sam's bed tonight…"

"Pack your stuff, Becs, we leave when Sam stops throwing his fit," Dean smirked before wandering over to his bag and collecting the things that had been tossed on the floor.

* * *

Leaning against the Impala, I was grumbling as I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. I didn't want to be out here, in the dark, alone, waiting for Dean and Sam. I told them that I would have been fine to be the one to go in there and get information from the Gunderson guy. He had been Kelly's partner, and he had been the one to go to the asylum with him before he flipped the switch and killed his wife and then himself. We'd gotten as much information we could have on our way to Rockford, and after I'd looked up everything, they'd come up with this plan. Well, after I'd looked up everything and we'd gone to his house only to find out he was at his bar right now. Either way! I think it really wouldn't have made a difference if I had been the one in there getting the information. But no, Sam got to do it because Dean wanted us separated, and he figured that Sam would be the best one to get the information. Something about I would try too hard to push my emotions down and then I'd be blunt and rude by accident as a cover. I don't know where he comes up with this, but whatever. So in the meantime, while he and Sam got to go have all the fun, I got to stand outside and freaking lean against the car. This is dumb, and my arm is itchy, and Sam and Dean both yelled at me when I tried to stick something down there to scratch it earlier, and I want a chocolate shake. I groaned out loud and crossed my left leg over my right as I pulled my zip up tighter around me, and brushed the few strands that had fallen out of my side braid back from where they'd landed across my eyes because of the light passing of wind. And to top everything off? It had been raining, so I was wet. Thankfully, it didn't take _too_ long for Dean to emerge and smirk at my scowl as he bounded down the steps of the bar.

"Miss me?" he teased as he spun and landed next to me on the car.

I rolled my eyes and continued to scowl and stare forward. "Not even a little bit," I told him coolly. "How long you think this is gonna take him?"

I felt Dean shrug next to me. "Don't know. Why? You got somewhere to be?"

Shaking my head and biting my bottom lip, I dropped my hands and pulled the sleeves of the zip up down so that my hands were fully covered. "No, but I'm bored. Let's go get some food or something while we wait," I suggested.

"We're not ditchin' Sam in there. What if he comes out and sees we're gone?" Dean answered me, seeming surprised that I'd even suggest something so crazy.

"I'm not seeing a downside here, Dean," I told him honestly as I pushed off the car and faced him. So what if Sam didn't know where we were. Maybe right now I didn't want him to know where we were. He was a jerk, and I need a break from him. Or to punch him really hard in the face. Like really, REALLY hard. Right in the nose.

Dean shot me a disapproving look and then resituated himself on the car. "You guys need to cut the crap, we're on a case again – and I don't want to deal with your drama on top of whatever else we got goin' on here. Got it?"

I kicked a stone and watched it bounce away into the distance, ignoring him for a second. After the stone stopped moving I shot my eyes up to him, where he was waiting for some sort of answer. "Well, maybe if he wasn't always causing problems, life would be easier."

"He's not the only one causing problems, Becca. You've been pullin' some shit too," he told me.

I grumbled and leaned back against the Impala next to him. "Sorry," I finally forced out, still sounding angry though.

Dean leaned away and eyed me. "Oh?" he questioned.

I didn't look up at him. Instead, I stared down at my feet and picked at the edge of my cast with my other hand. "Yeah. I'm sorry that you gotta put up with my issues with Sam. You've been cool about it, and you've had my back, and it's not your fault that he's a complete jackass who makes me want to kick him in the baby makers. I'll try to keep my cool around him."

Dean chuckled and leaned back so that our arms were touching. "Thanks? How is that even an apology?" Smiling to myself, I chuckled with him before a calm silence blanketed the area around us. We didn't need to say much as we waited, but Dean did turn on the radio in the Impala, just so that there was some sort of sound – not that we needed it. My eyes were closed and my hood was up as my arms had found their way around me again, and my body slowly fell into Dean's side as we waited. He nudged me off of him, and I jolted out of the half sleep stupor that was overtaking me, and looked around to see Sam coming out of the bar. "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy," Dean told him as he neared.

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting," Sam answered him.

I didn't even hesitate as Sam rounded the car and opened his door. Quickly opening my own and preparing myself to crawl in, I stopped as my brother's continued to stand outside of the vehicle and talk about what Sam had learned. "Huh?" Dean questioned as he turned to face Sam.

Waving my hand at him, I brushed his not understanding off. "Forget that," I told him. "What'd you find out from Gunderson?" I pressed to Sam, anxious for answers that I'd been denied by being told to wait outside.

"Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him," Sam told us with an '_I can't even believe this_' smile.

What'd this guy tell him, a toast? My God. If Kelly was that well off, how the hell, and why the hell, would he kill his wife and then off himself? "You're kidding right?" I burst out.

Dean pushed past my comment and nodded to Sam, pushing him to continue telling us more information before either of us could possibly find a way to start arguing. "What about at home?"

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids," Sam explained with a shrug saying that he didn't understand.

"Right. 'Cause that makes a ton of sense. This mellow guy just snaps for no reason," I argued, placing my foot on the edge of the opening for the back seat of the car. "Kelly had to have like some sort of deep-seated crazy that was just hopin' to bust outta him –"

"Or something else did it to him," Dean finished for me, earning nods of agreement for Sam and me. "What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?"

"A lot," Sam sighed before sliding into the car, followed by the rest of us.

Clicking my belt into place while Dean started the car, I nodded, encouraging Sam to continue. "Define '_a lot'_."

Sam puffed a breath of air out from his cheeks as he leaned back. "Well, the place was originally built as a hospital for people with TB, and then over time switched into what it is now. The night that Kelly and Gunderson were at the asylum, they were patrolling the area, 'cause kids are always sneakin' in because they think the patient's ghosts haunt the place. Well, I guess they were searching the building for some kids that they'd gotten a call about. After a while Gunderson and Kelly split up, only to find nothing, and leave." I stared at him, and he must have thought I was crazy, because he just kind of gave me a look before shouting out, "What!?"

"That's what he told you," I stated.

"Yes."

"Dude, we really need to reevaluate your sense of what is considered '_a lot_' because that's close to pretty much damn near nothing about the actual asylum or what happened to Kelly."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-six.**

**Oh mylanta, I have quite a bit to say to you all.**

**1. A MILLION, KABILLION, FAFILLION apologies for taking so long to get this out to you. It is crunch time at school, and that means that there are final projects, papers, presentations, and about 20 readings a week that all need to be accomplished. As it is, I am waking up early to do homework because I really wanted to get this out to you all tonight.**

**2. PLEASE try to make sure that you all occasionally check out my 'Profile' page. I don't do it too often, but I have decided to put a few updates and things on there. So if I randomly disappear for a bit, or you had a question that needed answering but had no way for me to ****answer it (as though you were/are a guest) - there is probably something posted on that page.**

**3. If you do put a question in the reviews, and I do not have a way to respond to you because you are a guest, I will try to both answer it in a responsive review, and also in the 'Profile' thing. So, I hope that you get them.**

**4. You are all the best people in the whole wide world. Here I go, disappearing for like 43 years, and you all just keep clicking on the story, and reviewing, and adding me to your alerts. You are the reasons that I have been freaking out about not getting you a chapter. You all deserve not only the best chapter in the world (which sadly, this may not be) but also infinite high-fives, knuckle bumps, and pats on the backs. Mainly because that is what I can afford. I mean, you guys, over 12,000 of you have viewed this story. Can we just dwell on that for a minute?**

**5. I don't know WHO did it, but someone added me to a community titled ****_The Best of the OFC's_****. Um, I love you, whoever you are. I seriously did a double take and had a mini freak out when I saw that. You are just, amazing is not even a good enough word. Thank you so much, you really are too kind, and boosted my ego/self esteem with that! Wow. I'm still in awe that you even thought to do so.**

**I think that was it.  
So, thank you, to all of you. You are the sweetest, kindest, just over all best people ever. I owe you so much.**

**Extra thanks to misses Jenmm31 and SPNxBookworm. You guys have been very helpful, and very kind with your critiques and suggestions, and you haven't been****_ too_**** pressuring in asking me to get this out. Just kidding, you guys have been great. You can all go and find a quick link over to their stories in the 'Favorite Authors' tab on my page.**

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**Disclaimer.**

* * *

I was staring up at the tall chain linked fence that loomed above us. I didn't see this as being anything near the neighborhood of easy. Dean and Sam were on either side of me, also looking up, and I think we all sighed at the same exact time. I held up my right hand and squished my lips into the corner of my mouth as my eyes scanned the teal cast that looked darker in the night and lack of lights. I could hardly make a fist at all. How was I going to climb this fence? I sighed again and looked up. "Whelp, what are you guys thinkin?" I asked, not taking my eyes from the tall metal barrier keeping me separated from the building we were trying to sneak into.

"I guess you just climb the best you can, come on," Dean stated launching himself onto the fence and beginning to climb it. Sam and I watched him just scale up the one side, flip over to the other, and work his way down the other side. He landed on his feet after jumping down the last few feet and fixed his jacket before sniffing and staring at us. "You two coming?"

Sam looked down at me and then sighed. "You can stay back if you want to," he suggested.

I laughed right in his face. Not a '_you're an idiot_' laugh, but a '_you're completely nuts_' laugh. "I'm not staying back and letting _you_ have all the fun. If anyone gets to fight an evil nasty, it's _me_ because I need some stress relief," I told him with a hard look.

Glaring down at me he didn't even pay attention to Dean on the other side of the fence. "'_Relief_'? What do you need relief from? You have a pretty easy life compared to me and Dean!"

"What, are those nightmares making you delusional now, too? How is my life easy compared to you two? I just do as much as you guys, and endure _just as much_ crap!" I yelled.

"Guys –" Dean started, only for us to ignore him and continue with our argument.

"It would just be easier for Dean and me if you stayed back on this one," Sam stated, turning his back on Dean and fully facing me. I didn't miss that he was standing between the fence and me, too, which I am _sure _was his main goal of the movement.

A very hard glare went from my eyes to Sam's eyes and I think that if I didn't change up my expression soon, it was probably going to stick like that forever. Which, actually considering our ever occurring arguments, that could be helpful – not in the rest of my life, but that part at least. I guess that you do indeed win some and lose some, huh? "Well, lucky for _me_, Dean said I get to go, so shove your shit and handle it."

Moving to walk around him, he caught the upper side of my arm and pushed me back to stand in front of him. "Becca, I'm serious, it'd be better if you stay here. Just let us do this one."

"No. Why don't _you_ stay here and let us go?" I threw at him, again trying to move around him, only to be stopped for the second time.

"Can you just not argue with me for, like, five minutes right now?" he yelled as he looked down at me. There was frustration all over his face, and I could tell he was getting just as fed up with the arguing as I was. We weren't going to stop though, I mean, we're Winchesters. What, are you new?

"Can you just not be a total jackass for, like, five minutes? Why should I sit back and let you go? What can you do that I can't?" I bit to him with just as much annoyance and frustration in my voice.

Sam grabbed my cast and brought it up to be level to my eyes and then slightly shook it. "You can barely grip a pen, how do you expect to pull the trigger on a gun?"

I allowed him to drop my arm, and it fell until it was lying at my side again. He had a point. I couldn't really pull the trigger on a gun. The fiberglass section between my thumb and forefinger was too thick to allow me the pleasure of pinching something – trust me, I'd tried. Apparently when my arm broke, the top bone snapped in half and something got jarred up by the fingers and they had to be spaced this way "_to allow for proper healing and range of motion and blah blah blah_" I stopped listening. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. I was sitting over here just bubbling over with frustration, and I wanted nothing more than to shoot something… Well, I guess I'll have to find another way to let out some anger, but I will be letting it out – just you wait. "I guess I'll just have to use you as a battering ram, Sam," I sighed as I frowned. Apparently that is not the answer he wanted because his face shifted into that, 'can you please just be serious and humor me' expression and I groaned before leaning to the side and meeting Dean's gaze. "Tell him I get to come!"

"Sam," Dean groaned, "just help the cripple over the fence. All we're doin' is scopin' the place out. If worse comes to worst, we'll lock her in a closet and take on whatever it is ourselves. Okay?" I didn't quite enjoy the idea of being locked in a closet, because I know that Dean would actually do it – and this time I didn't have Sam to sneak me out, but I didn't miss that he said I get to go along for the ride.

I could have sworn that Sam was going to throw some sort of bitch fit, but he held it in as he helped me up the fence until I was able to get over the top and onto the other side, where I then fell into the waiting arms of Dean.

* * *

Well, I will tell you one thing I can do with my sad excuse for a medical problem – and that is holding a flashlight. I can light up a path better than you can, for sure. I've noticed that when we Winchesters wander into and around places together, we don't leave a whole bunch of room. We're pretty much on top of each other's toes and I don't actually know why. Maybe it makes the heartwarming bonding moments a little more intense. Either way, I was slowly leading our small train into the main area of this joint, and let me tell you, it was definitely the place for some sort of horror movie. Paint peeling, sick, sour smell, heavy doors both opened and closed, papers littered the floors, cobwebs, old school trolleys and crap left sitting wherever they'd been abandoned – you know the type. I was shining my lovely beacon of site everywhere as Sam spoke up from behind me. "So apparently the cops chased the kids here… into the south wing," Sam's arm appeared over my shoulder and I looked up to where his long finger was pointing.

There was a sign hanging over a door that read _South Wing_. Well, that's convenient. I was already to move towards the wing, when Dean stopped me. "South wing, huh? Wait a second, Bec," he said snapping a hand to my shoulder. I turned and saw him pull Dad's journal out of that magical pocket again and he started flipping through it towards some sort of specific page. "Here," he announced, "'_1972_. _Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived_.' Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So, we gotta check out the south wing for whatever's goin' on," I told them both. Sam nodded his head, but Dean didn't seem to sure about it.

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" he asked.

Like we are supposed to just have the answer or something, get with it. Sam looked around while Dean flipped around a little bit in the journal, and I lit up some of the nearby by things around us. "Looks like the doors are usually chained," Sam stated, indicating to the doors of the south wing. "Could've been chained up for years."

"Well, you only chain things up for two reasons. To keep people out, or keep something in," I sighed, shining my light onto the broken chains that hung from the handles and dangled down into a puddle on the floor. I heard Dean shut the journal behind me, and then he and I moved forward and through the door that Sam was holding open for us.

Well, it is a good thing that I have my handy dandy flashlight, because this hall way needed it. Or I needed it. Regardless, it was lighting up my way as I lead us down the dank halls. "Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel," I heard Dean tell Sam, causing me to laugh loud enough for it to echo off of the walls and hang in the air around us.

"Enough," Sam snarled. I don't know if he was more upset with Dean for saying it or with me for laughing at it. Probably me, because that's just how we are lately. My laugh was still bouncing lightly off the walls and I think I felt the heat from his eyes in the back of my head.

"Oh relax, S –" I started.

"I'm serious," Dean cut off. "You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on."

I rolled my eyes at Sam's attempt to once more tell Dean that he wasn't psychic, but instead just a dreamer. "I told you guys, it's not ESP! I just ha –"

"'_You just have strange vibes sometimes, and weird dreams_.' Yeah, we know," I repeated the speech that'd I'd heard endless times since Dean found out about it all. If anyone can drag stuff out in the longest way possible, it is Dean. He will legit hold on to things forever and you will suffer as long as he feels necessary. Now, whether he is doing it to tease you or because it angers him, you might actually never know. "You don't need to keep telling us."

Dean met my pace and then soon passed me. "Whatever," he sighed. "Don't ask, don't tell, right?" he was waving the EMF around in front of him, hoping to get a read.

I don't know what Sam was doing as he stood behind me as we continued to slowly make our way through the wing, but I paid him no mind… Well, tried to pay him no mind. It's hard to ignore someone you're upset with, especially when they are equally upset with you. "You gettin' any readings on that?" I questioned to Dean.

"Nope," he popped the 'p'. "Of course," he looked over his shoulder to us with a smirk, "that doesn't mean no one's home."

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," Sam told us. The guys a walking book, I swear.

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night," Dean teased, causing me to chuckle. There was a light silence before Dean stopped in his tracks and then turned to face us, deadpanned. "Hey Sam," he poised, causing both Sam and I to look at him, waiting for his question, "who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?"

I sputtered as a laugh left my chest. Sam shoved Dean, causing them both to laugh before we all pushed on. And for the record, I vote J-Love is the hotter psychic. I mean, check her out, go ahead, especially if one of the other options is Sam… Yep, J-Love is definitely the hotter psychic. Plus, our boobs are totally similar.

* * *

Wow. I mean, _wow_. This place is intense. There are hella scary machines and left over crap lying everywhere – and I gotta be honest, it's really freaking creepy. Like horror movie creepy. I think I'm in a horror movie. We entered yet another room and right now we weren't really picking up anything. I stepped into the room right on the heels of Sam as Dean whistled. "Man," he announced, causing me to blind him with my flashlight when I turned to pay attention to what he said. "Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people," he rattled off while throwing a hand up to block out the blinding light. I shot him a sheepish grin and lowered the flashlight and clicked it off before stuffing it into my pants pocket. "Kinda like my man Jack in _Cuckoo's Nest_," he then did this crazy thing with his eyes and grinned, slightly bobbing his head back and forth as he shifted his glance from me to Sam. What a boob. But because he is Dean, it made me laugh. I really need to try and not be so easily amused.

"Dean," I chuckled, "you're such a boob." I told him, only for him to shoot me that shit eating grin. Sam on the other hand completely ignored him, and the smile fell from Dean's face. Way to go, Sam! Just knock the kid's ice cream to the ground. That's basically what you just did. "All right," I sighed as we all picked up our endless search, "any ideas?"

"Ghosts possessing people," Dean decided, as though this thought were more a fact than anything.

I would have responded, except Sam beat me to it, not that it really mattered, because I didn't have any idea what could be happening. I'm not the brightest bulb in the chandelier if you catch my drift. "Maybe," Sam stated. "Or maybe it's more like _Amityville_, or the Smurl haunting."

I wandered by him slowly, picking up and dropping things as I did so. "I've never seen that movie," I spoke randomly.

Dean and Sam both stopped to look at me. "You've never seen which movie?" Dean posed.

"_Amityville_," I told him.

"Shut up," Dean barked, not believing what I'd just told him. "You have too."

Shaking my head I dropped an old rusted pan back onto the table I'd picked it off of. "Not even once. Not that I've avoided it, just never seen it is all," I told him honestly.

"Well, then we're gonna watch it," Sam announced, causing Dean and I to both look at him like he was crazy. A small smile spread on Sam's lips as the thought ran through his head. Dude, if this place is already starting to play with his mind, I may get upset. He better not be going all nice while I'm still mad at him.

My eyes lingered on Sam's face, questioning the past motive, and I flipped my eyes over Dean, after doing a quick double take at my twin who shrugged. "Soooo _any_wayyyy, what are you guys saying with this whole _Amityville _thing?"

Dean's smile was back as he quickly brushed off Sam's random act of kindness and faced me again. "Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in _The Shining_."

I rolled my eyes at him, a grin spreading across my lips. "Dude, you don't even know Jack, stop calling him '_your man_'."

"Guys," Sam abruptly stopped our conversation as Dean's mouth opened to fight my accusation. We both looked at him. I was confused now, because his hardened tone was back. He is totally freaking me out right now. "When are we going to talk about it?" Sam questioned.

"Talk about what?" Dean answered.

"About the fact Dad's not here," Sam responded, seeming upset.

And here we go. I inwardly groaned and turned away from them. I'm not about to get into this. Sam just seriously won't let things go – ever. Worse than Dean or me. Looks like _someone_ got the grudge trait from Daddy-o. Besides, why do we have to focus on that right now? I think it's a little beyond obvious that Dad isn't here. Dad not being here means that he needed _us_ to be here. Why can't Sam handle that? Why does he have to start fights about this? He knows we're all wanting to find Dad – but he just _doesn't_ get the fact that sometimes you have to do things between the search and the find.

"Oh…" Dean's voice lingered off and hung in the air, and I am sure he was watching me where I was avoiding their gaze. He knew that I'd wanted to find Dad just as much as Sam had – mainly because when Sam was gone I vented to Dean and told him so. I told you, the guy became my rock, and I was definitely using him as one lately. I owed him, big. However, Dean and I both knew the routine. And I had to show Dean that I could handle it – for his sake. He was there for me, and I had to be there for him. It's a package like deal. "I see," Dean continued after a short silence where I'd been biting my lip trying to pretend I didn't hear him. "How 'bout… never." Here, here!

Sam's tone caused me to stiffen. He'd had the tone with me lately, but not with Dean. If you had _that_ tone and anger when talking to Dean, you better be able to handle the blow back that you're going to get. "I'm being serious, man. He sent us here…"

"So am I, Sam," Dean quickly snapped back. "Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later."

"It doesn't matter what he wants!" Sam yelled.

Oh forget not getting into this. I am so getting in this. "It does too matter what he wants! He sent us here to do this job. He _needs_ us to do this job. Why can't you accept that? Why do you always have to fight everything he does?"

"Because it's Dad we're talking about, Becca! He always does this. He gives orders and we follow them like mindless little soldiers, and that's it. He doesn't allow us to ask questions, he doesn't allow us to even think about doing something else, and we sure as hell aren't allowed to decide whether or not we believe it to be right or wrong. A lot of the time, we fall into some tough situation because of _his_ crappy ass decisions. And just when you or I need him to be here, he's not. Just like normal."

I moved forward, quickly, coming toe to toe with Sam. This was our father we were talking about, meaning _my_ father, meaning my family, meaning I was pissed. No one gets to talk about my family like that, even if you are part of it. Teasing, yes? That I can handle. Teasing is backed by love, most times. At least it was when Sam used to tell me, '_If you're not teased, you're not loved_.' But the way he was talking, the venom in his voice – that was different that just teasing. That was anger, and malice, and dare I say, hate. "What about when he needs _us_, huh? Dad needs us right now, and you throwing some sort of tantrum is just telling him you don't want to do it. We don't need to hear you say you don't want to, because the way you act is plenty."

Sam stuck his tongue behind his lip and looked up at the ceiling, clearly trying to fight the words in his head, but apparently he lost that battle. "What the hell has gotten into you? Since when did you just accept all this and become Dad's perfect soldier?"

"Since I've learned that maybe the guy has a clue about what the hell he's talking about. Don't you think that solving this case is worth it? I mean, people are out there _dying_, and you would rather sit complain about Dad not being here to hold your hand. He sent _us_ to stop whatever it is inside the place, so that more people don't die! Stop making the man out to be such a bad guy, because this," I shoved my finger into his chest, "is something _good_," I seethed. I don't know who I was trying to convince more at this point. Sam, to believe every word I said and get him to focus, or me, to maybe switch my thoughts to mimic my words.

Huffing in anger, Sam glared down at me with such hatred, that I almost stepped back in shock. Almost. I was ready as he made to come back at me with some remark, but Dean stepped in, shoving a hand between our bodies, which until he did, I hadn't noticed were pressed up against each other as we fumed. "That's enough, guys," Dean grunted. I don't know exactly what was going on in that thick head belonging to him, but his tone told me that he was on his last nerve. What that last nerve was regarding, who knows. It could have been the tension that radiated off of his siblings, or the looks they were sending each other, or maybe it was the fact that all of everything we were saying was cold hard truth. Dean knew my truth though, and Sam didn't – and I think that whatever feeling he had as he looked at me with stern eyes and a tight jaw, with a little bit of sympathy in his eyes was because of the fact that he knew my past. And part of me couldn't handle that right now.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that Dad's not always right?" Sam's voice was low, and almost pleading as he looked down at me. I wanted to break down and tell him that it was because if I didn't believe that he was right, then a lot of things in my life wouldn't make as much sense. If I admitted that my dad was wrong, then I admitted more than just that to myself. I had trust in my dad, and in Dean, and if I told myself that the trust was blind or was pointless, or something equally disapproving – then I was truly alone.

I didn't yell at him though. No. Instead I just choked on my words, and I narrowed my eyes. "Shut up, Sam," I told him, turning away and making sure he didn't see the angry tears rimming my lids.

Dean stepped in behind me, pointing a thick finger at Sam while a low brow settled over his eyes, showing that he was beyond just upset. "See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always got the extra cookie."

"Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him," Sam rambled on, ignoring the cookie comment. "We deserve some answers, guys. I mean, this is our family we're talking about."

Dean seemed to be giving in as he said, "I understand that, Sam –" but I was unable to handle that and quickly cut him off.

"He's given us an order," I stated from where I was still not facing either of them.

"So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam snarled, and I am sure he turned to glare at me.

I turned to face him once more, and allowed my eyes to briefly shift over to his face before I caught that same angry look and broke the contact. "YES!" I sighed with a bit of relief that he'd finally seemed to be understand while Dean was less intense with his, "Of course we do."

Sam angrily looked at us, and I continued to try and secretly watch his face until Dean gave up trying to reason with him and turned away with a huff. Sam then scrunched up his whole face like he does when he is trying really hard to keep something inside instead of spouting it off like he wants to. "_Sanford Ellicott_'…" Dean read off of something. I wasn't really paying attention as I shoved things around with my foot. "You know what we gotta do, guys," Dean called to us. "We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here." I nodded my head and quickly marched out of the room and away from Sam before he could say some stupid comment about Dad. I mean, he is _definitely_ not the only one who wants answers. I am positive he is not the only one who is desperately hoping that we somehow find him in each new town we cross into. He's just the only one throwing a bitch fit about it, and not doing the job he needs to do. He's the one who is quickly slipping into that old routine of disregard and constant head butting that will probably turn into that old routine of people leaving without any answers and any acknowledgment that I was left behind.

* * *

Apparently complaining about not getting to go into the bar will only get you the opportunity to sit in a waiting room. Alone. Flipping through a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine. When did they start putting make up ads in a home improvement magazine? That seems pointless in my opinion. But I digress. You won't be sitting in a fun waiting room for like, a tattoo or something. You will be sitting in the waiting room for a psychiatrist. And because you made such a big deal about doing something that your dad said you needed to do will guarantee your butt in the chair. Lucky me. I don't even know why I was flipping through this thing. I don't have a home to decorate and I highly doubt that Dean is going to allow me to throw some striped pillows along the bench of the back seat in the Impala. Oh, yeah, and that teal paint? For sure, he will _totally_ let me paint the seats. Sweet. I tossed the book into a frenzy of pages and onto the table beside the couch I was on. Crossing my arms and legs I stared at the door that had a sign reading _'Dr. James Ellicott, Clinical Psychiatry'_ while bouncing my leg and blowing a large breath of air from my cheeks. Finally the door opened, and my eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor's smiling face.

"Becca Winchester?" he nodded to me.

Standing up, I pulled down my shirt. "The one and only," I responded before reaching out and offering my hand for him to shake. I stepped past him and into the room after he invited me to enter. Well, my purpose of being here wasn't _completely_ pointless. I was here to get information – and information I will get. "Ellicott… Ellicott, that name… Wasn't there a… a Dr. Sanford Ellicott? Like, he was the chief psychiatrist somewhere in this town?"

Dr. Ellicott smiled and motioned for me to sit down across from him where he crossed his legs and placed a clipboard and folder on top of his lap. "My father was chief of staff at the old Roosevelt Asylum. How did you know?"

I smiled and took my seat. "Meh, call me _Girl Wonder – _my knowledge knows no bounds," I teased, only to see his head slightly tip to the side and eye me. Clearing my throat I figured that maybe sarcasm wasn't the best way to approach this guy. "Well, I'm sorta… what does my brother call it, a local history buff? But you said the Roosevelt Asylum, right? Wasn't there an incident or something that occurred – in like the hospital? The south wing! That's it!" I snapped my finger, indicating that I was sure of myself, but was totally willing to have him correct me on the matter.

Do you think that he would have corrected me? Because he didn't. No. He just tipped his head straight and pursed his lips a little bit before clasping his hands together and setting them on his board folder hybrid thing. "We're on your dollar, Becca. We're here to talk about _you_."

Oh man, if this guy only knew. We definitely do _not_ want to talk about me. "Right, right. Um, yeah, sure."

"So. How's things?" he asked.

Things effing blow. I can't stop arguing with one brother. Another brother sees the torture I'm going through. I have this story that is on the tip of my tongue and about to explode from my mouth every time my twin says something about not knowing why I'm different. And my father is avoiding me. Us, he's avoiding us. Well, me. "Things are great!" I told him enthusiastically.

"Good," he smiled. "Whatchya been doing?"

Quietly crying myself to sleep and avoiding my twin while venting to my older brother. And shoving pencils down my itchy cast when neither of them were looking. "Nothing special, really… I'm just on this road trip with my brothers right now."

Ellicott was looking at me, as though he wanted me to elaborate. I stared back. "Was that fun?" he pressed.

Freakin' epic. "You have no idea," I pretended to gush. "You know, on the road, we meet _tons _of totally interesting people. And we do some pretty awesome things, hit up some cool places… You know? So, uh, sorry, I can't shake it – but what _was_ it exactly that happened in the south wing? I totally forget…"

"If you're a local history buff, you know all about the Roosevelt riot."

Damn it, Sam. '_Tell him you're into local history, like a buff or something_'. Yeah, because that didn't just come to bite me in the ass. "Right no, I know. I'm just, uh, curious."

Ellicott leaned forward in his seat, bringing his arms ahead of him. "All right, Becca, let's cut the bull, shall we? You're avoiding the subject."

No, I'm actually avoiding your eyes. That's a nice fern, yo. "What subject?" my eyes flitted to his face briefly before they settled on my cast and index finger that was struggling to scratch at the side of my thumb.

"_You_. Now, I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot, if you tell me something honest about yourself."

Honest about myself? Like what? I use _Head & Shoulders_ because one day I thought I had dandruff, and it was really just Dean messing with me and throwing soap shavings at me when I wasn't looking. "What do you mean?"

"Like, uh, these brothers of yours. The ones you're road tripping with. How do you feel about them?"

"Which one?" I blurted out before even thinking about it.

Ellicott smiled, and I felt a little bit defeated at the facial expression. "How many are there?"

Damn, this was totally a downhill battle, wasn't it? "Two. Dean, he's the oldest, and Sam. He's my twin. He's like eight minutes older or whatever. Maybe less, I don't really remember," I sighed, giving in. I didn't see me getting any answers my way, so I guess doing it this way is the only option.

"Well, why don't we start with Dean? How do you feel about him?"

I stared at the man like he was crazy. How do I feel about Dean? Dean is Dean. He loves Zeppelin, pie, and strippers. What more can you say about the guy? "Um… He's cool I guess…"

"Would you consider yourself close to Dean?"

"Well, yeah. The guy's pretty much my best friend," I answered.

"Not Sam," the doctor stated more than asked, looking at me with a curious expression while writing on his pad.

I felt my eyes narrow and my tongue curling around words before I could even tell myself to not do it. "Sam left," I spat out at him.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, seeming satisfied. I watched him resituate the pen in his hand and tap it against the pad in his lap. "Why don't we start with that?" he smiled. Freaking great.

* * *

The sun was blinding as I left the building and headed for the Impala as I ignored Dean and Sam who were mingling around outside of the large glass windows. I made to walk past them, only for them to each pick a side and match my walking pace. I looked left, right, left, before crossing the street and chewed on my bottom lip as we stepped off the curb.

"Dude!" Dean barked when I didn't immediately start talking. "You were in there _forever_. What the hell were you talking about?"

Well, we were talking about how I, apparently, am depressed. And that I use sarcasm as a cover for the pain; that I am trying to hide when directly asked about it. And that our family is unhealthy in its expression of feelings, and that I have put you on a pedestal and have created a hero complex for you – subconsciously expecting you to always be there to rescue me. Oh, and that I am a poster child for not only daddy issues, but abandonment issues. I feel as though I am not good enough, and apparently I continuously strive to be perfect just to please the people around me without taking into account my own well being or actual feelings. "Just the hospital," I mumbled as I tried to quicken my pace.

"And the south wing?" Sam pressed, not having to change his speed as his legs were a million times longer than mine.

"It's where they housed the really hard cases, like the psychotics, the criminally insane – that kind of stuff," I stopped walking and looked up at him with heavy eyes.

Dean kept walking, not even noticing, and called back a sarcastic, "Sounds cozy!"

I sighed and picked back up walking to the Impala. "Yeah, well, maybe not. According to Ellicott, there was this one night back in '64, where they went super crazy and rioted. Attacked the staff, and even attacked each other."

"So the patients took over the asylum?" Sam questioned as we finally reached the car, but didn't enter it right away.

"Apparently."

"But were there any deaths?" Dean questioned as he lifted a finger into the air as if to prove a point and then unlocked his door.

Nodding my head I waited for the lock on my door to click and then climbed in behind them. "I guess there were some patients and some staff that died. Supposedly it was super gory, too. Some of the bodies were never recovered, either, _including_ Mr. Chief-of-Staff, Ellicott."

Dean turned in the seat to face me before starting the car. "Whaddaya mean, '_never recovered_'?"

What is this guy slow or something? "I _mean_ that they never recovered the body. As in they never found it. Cops searched all over the place – and nothing. From what the guy was telling me, the best bet is that the patients might have like, stuffed the bodies somewhere; kept them hidden."

"That's grim," Dean announced finally starting the car and pulling into traffic.

"What'd they do with the rest of the patients?" Sam posed.

I leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as I tried to remember what was told to me. "Uhhhhhhh… They transferred all of them somewhere and just shut the place down basically. He didn't give any name or anything."

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies –" Dean began.

"And that would mean there's probably a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

Tasty. I felt a sour taste in my mouth and turned my head to look out the window as Dean announced that we would be returning to the hospital that night to check everything out.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-seven.**

**I didn't get as far in the episode as I'd wanted to - but I think that will be okay in the end. I have plans, it may work better this way. Or not, but only time will tell.  
This also may be the last update for a while :( I have to get back on track with homework and projects, and from what I can tell, my free time will be officially taken over by group meetings. So, if any of you want to just go ahead and take my spot in ****_those_**** so that I can work on ****_this_****, I'm down.**

**Thank you to all of those who reviewed and PMed me about last chapter! Those were the most reviews for a single chapter to date, and you made every phone notification worth it! The best people read this story. I am convinced. I can't even believe it. Also, I have never heard/read that I was so awesome before. It's like you all had a meeting and decided the best term to use was 'awesome'. I have to tell you, I love it. And I include it on all of my 'bio' parts now. You can even check my 'Profile' and 'Twitter' if you don't believe me. So if you see it, just know you're the reason it's there. You all legit affect my life now. :) Kudos.**

**Special shout out to Jenmm31 who took extra time out of her busy schedule to run over some last minute frantics I had. I owe her big. Please make sure to go and click my 'Favorites' tab and then click on her name/story. You will not be sorry.**

**As always, READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Let's set the scene, shall we? All right, picture _this_! It's night time. Like, super dark and stars are all hanging overhead looking awesome and crap. The leaves are rustling as a light wind passes through them, bending limbs of trees that stand in the distance, and a small single serving bag of potato chips bounces past you because someone is a litter bug and apparently can't just hang on to their garbage until they get home. The wind is chilly as it passes by, so you have to pull your jean jacket a little tighter around yourself. You're crossing your arms, looking around as a lookout for yourself, watching a couple cars slowly purr their way past you. It's not that you're not supposed to be here, it's just that you really needed a minute to yourself, so you went on a walk and got turned around, and then ended up next to the old Roosevelt Asylum and it's a bit creepy for you because, let's face it – the place is totally spooky. And the stories you were told as a child are running through your head, causing a small chill up your spine, and a strong desire that you had any idea of where you were. Then you look over your shoulder to see dark shadows blocking your view of the warning signs that are plastered on the main doors to this clearly abandoned building that has bars over broken windows, dead ivy clinging to the walls, graffiti showing up as nothing more than dark, faded designs in the open spaces on the stone. Then you hear it. A groan. Not a painful groan, but a frustrated groan. The dark shadows move, and see a small sliver of moon light bounce off of the rusted metal door and you hear a female voice complain to the shadow surrounding her as she whines, "Can you _please _be a little bit quicker there, Sam?"

I am that female voice. And Sam is taking a really long time to get inside this place. Last time we were here, I'm pretty positive that it wasn't even locked! So unless the spirits inside are afraid of thieves or something, I don't know why he's struggling. The wind is also picking up, and I'm getting cold. And this long sleeve shirt is not very warm. Well, it is, but only if I keep pulling it down, and it won't fit over my cast, so that arm is extra cold. "Becca, you giving me crap isn't going to make me go faster!" Sam snapped back from where he was kneeling on the ground in front of the lock.

Dean clapped a hand to my mouth as it opened to bite back to Sam, and I had to settle with a deep glare to the back of his head. "Would you guys just knock it off already? We're working now, so can it."

I shoved my glare over to Dean's face. _He_ can just quit with the '_you guys aren't going to be fighting while we're on a case_' crap. Me shoving this anger down is not helping and to be quite honest, I'm sick of being told that I can fight – as long as it's not while we're working. My anger doesn't just _know_ when to '_can it_'. It's an unruly beast that has a total mind of its own! Besides, I was pretty much fine with snapping on Sam right now. I think he deserved it, and I was going to give him what he deserved. Besides, Dr. Ellicott told me that I shouldn't hold it all in anyway! He said, '_your anger seems to always seems to be on this plateau before a sudden upward spike occurs, and then you inevitably repress it. Why don't you try giving in to it in a little more, but in a constructive way? Write your feelings down, go for a jog… Try finding something that will release tension without causing any more harm to yourself in a mental or physical way._' Not that I'd been harming myself in a physical way – let's just make that clear right now. It's pretty much all psychological. Good thing we're in an asylum right now.

There was finally a click and Sam straightened back up before fixing his jacket. He didn't even look back at us before he shoved the door open and stepped inside. After finally being released from Dean, I also entered the building, and we all whipped out our own equipment to get started. Dean had the EMF going, and Sam was scanning the area with his video camera, following the light my flashlight was giving off. I think that Dean assigned these jobs on purpose, though. I mean, Sam was using the camera, with the flashlight to see if there were any orbs nearby, signaling that there would spirits around the place. Needless to say, Sam needed me to be able to do it correctly. This was_ not_ a funny joke. This was like a punishment or something. We had to like, walk _next_ to each other, and both of us were clearly fuming at the idea. We kept bumping arms and shoulders and then nudging the other one away. I would turn the flashlight, he would get frustrated because that's not where _he_ wanted to focus. I wanted to get more in depth with the search, and he was more or less skimming. Finally after the seven hundredth time, I stomped my foot and threw my arms down, spinning around to face Dean. "Are you getting any readings over there, Dean?" I huffed angrily as Sam went to snatch the flashlight from my hand. Lucky for me, I am totally on to him, and I moved my arm before he could get it.

Dean didn't even seem to be paying attention to the battle I was enduring, and he just nodded his head while continuing to roam around the room with the EMF clutched in his hand, where I could the red lights at the top of it just going crazy and jumping from one end to the other. He didn't actually need to answer me, since I'd seen for myself, and so I just lifted back up my flashlight and went to shining it about the room again. Don't worry, I made sure to completely avoid Sam and not help him out while I did so. Bitchy? Damn straight. "What about you guys?"

"Well, from what I could _tell_," Sam sneered as he successfully ended up stealing the flashlight by creeping up behind me, "this place is orbing like crazy. But I haven't been able to get a real good reading yet."

I caught an irritated slash 'knock it off' look from Dean and I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I grumbled quietly to myself. Dean continued to scan around with the EMF as Sam did a quick double check of room for orbs, and I sighed when Sam confirmed that there were in fact a crap load of orbs around us. "So it probably means that's a ton of spirits out and about, getting down with their bad selves, right?" I asked Dean who suddenly had a small smile on his face. My mood lifted at seeing that. Dean smiling meant that I'd made him feel better, and the fact that he didn't tell me I was wrong made me feel like I was actually contributing. Overall, good.

Sam's voice cut in from where he now had control of the camera and my light, and was still looking around. "You know, if it's these uncovered bodies that are causing the haunting…" he dropped off before looking quickly around the room and then to us, and then around again as if signaling he'd seen something.

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful though," Dean announced. It might have been me, but I _kind_ of felt like the warning was directed more towards me instead of Sam. This may or may not be because I am a walking accident – as you may or may not have witnessed. I caught his eyes, and they were kind, but determined. "The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit…" is your baby sister getting hurt because she's clumsy and you then stand there just shaking your head because you can't believe what you just saw, and yet you're a little bit disappointed because you weren't there to make sure it didn't actually happen in the first place? "…is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer." Dang, I was so close. He then ushered us out of the room and we worked our way farther into the wing of the place.

* * *

I don't actually know _how_ or _when_ it happened, but our trio went down to being a duo, and I ended up being in a room with Sam. Maybe it was because Dean made him give me back the flashlight, after I'd whined and tried to get a hold of the EMF reader one too many times. Sam and I still weren't _talking_ but we were bickering. There was a lot of '_Would you please shine the light over here_'s and some _'Why do you get to decide where we go, huh_'s and even a few '_If you don't knock it off I'm gonna lock you up and leave you here like all those unrecovered bodies_'. That one got the response of '_Oh, yeah? Try it and I promise to come back and haunt your ass like no other_'. Wherever we were now, was slowly filling up with the steam from the anger that was brewing inside of each of us. I probably could have lingered my light in an area a little bit longer before quickly dragging it somewhere else, but I didn't even have the patience for him. I would rather be wherever the hell Dean was to be honest. But no, he ditched us and made us be alone. I'm sure this was some sick, twisted mindset that he thought would work to get us to talk to each other, but Dean is dumb and has no idea. If he doesn't know that this isn't going to work by now, after everything he and I have had to deal with, then I need to sit down and have a talk with him. His face under my pillow until he understands. Seems totally logical to me.

"Becca, can you _please_ just try and work with me here. The better you work with me, the quicker we can just get this job done," Sam snapped from the other side of the room. I raised the flashlight up, and shined it right in his eyes.

"Better?" I questioned sarcastically as I waved it around a little bit in his face.

A hand instantly flew up and he used his super long legs to close the distance between us, trying to grab the flashlight from my hand. Before his giant paw could grab it, I quickly flung my hand around me and pinned it to my back, twisting my body so he couldn't reach. "Becca, give me the flashlight," he ordered, continuing to try and reach around me to get the tool. I refused and dodged around him, so that I was more towards the center of the room. Sam was quick though, and instantly nearby. We struggled against each other until his hand wrapped around my arm and he froze, clinging tightly to the limb in his grasp. "Dean? DEAN!" he shouted as he looked over my head and into the light that the camera in his other hand had happened to be directed towards. I didn't understand, but I couldn't turn around to see what he was looking at. "Dean!" Sam shouted again as Dean suddenly ran into the room as he started rummaging around in his bag. "Shotgun!" Sam ordered.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, and before I could act, I felt a hand on the back of my neck and my body was forced down, flat against the ground. There were loud shots ringing not only in the room, but in my head, and I squinted my eyes shut as my hands flew to my ears out of surprise. I definitely wasn't expecting for Dean to shoot at me because I was stingy with the flashlight. I mean, damn. The shots stopped, and I looked next to me to see Sam also on the floor, but slowly picking himself up. Dean's hand was around my upper arm, and he was dragging me back up into a standing position.

I stood in shock for a second, trying to understand what had just happened. All of us were out of breath, and I couldn't actually tell you why. I brushed myself off before furrowing my brow. "What the hell just happened?" I questioned them both as they frantically looked around.

"That was weird," Sam stated, completely ignoring what I had just asked.

"What was weird?" I posed frantically.

Neither of them answered me though, they just kept going on between the two of them. "Yeah. You're telling me," Dean responded.

I stood there for minute while they both just left me. What, am I invisible all of a sudden? I mean, last I knew, I was fighting Sasquatch for a flashlight, and then he throws me on to the ground, and then they babble on about God knows what. Is it just me, or am I left here with like, no answers or something? "You guys, tell me what just happened!" I yelled before running out of the room after them.

Sam was hot on Dean's heels, and leaning over his shoulder as I came up behind them. "No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack us," Sam stated eagerly.

"Who are you talking about?" I asked.

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing," Dean huffed.

"She didn't hurt us. She didn't even try! So if she didn't wanna hurt us, then what did she want?"

I grabbed their arms the best I could, and I pulled them, drawing upset faces towards me. "_Who_?" I asked, dragging out the word so that they would finally pay attention to what I was saying. They both gave me those 'do we have to do this right now' looks and their mouths opened to respond, but a noise in the room beside us caused all three of us to snap our heads towards it. I dropped my grip on them and stepped between them with the flashlight, holding it ahead of our huddle. A hand caught my shoulder and stopped me, and I turned my head to see a shotgun barrel passing my shoulder, followed by a firm faced Dean. Sam and I walked side by side as we followed Dean farther into the room and there was an old dirty bed with what I can only assume was an older sheet on top of it. Well, hanging off of it, because the bed was tipped over like some sort of blockade. I lifted my light, and skimmed it over the bed, and stopped when I got towards the corner behind it. There was something behind the bed, and from what I could tell, it was a head. A blonde head. Well, this just got a little bit creepier. I sure do hope that the head is attached to a body… Or maybe not. A forty plus year old body? That could be nauseating. Tasty. None of us really moved, and we all kind of watched to see if the head would move first. When it didn't, I shoved Sam forward and indicated that he should check it out. Better he get eaten than me or Dean. We're too important. As the bed fell to the ground, a girl spun and showed nothing but fear on her face as she was fighting for breath. I jumped as it happened. "Whoa!" The girls eyes searched each of our faces and landed on Dean's upraised gun, and I saw her scoot back farther into the corner, and turned her face as though she was expecting a bullet to the chest. "Hey, hey, calm down," I tried to speak calmly. I then lifted my casted arm and pushed Dean's gun down so that it pointed towards the floor. "We're not gonna hurt you. What's your name?" She didn't answer me, but her large, round eyes blinked as she watched the gun lower. "Hey, what's your name?" I pushed, sounding a little more authorative. "Tell us your name."

"Katherine," she stuttered. "My name's Kat."

"Okay, Kat?" Dean questioned as he clicked the safety on his gun. "I'm Dean, this is Sam –"

"And I'm Becca," I told her with a small smile.

She seemed a little more relaxed, at least her legs didn't seem as stiff, and her pants had relaxed back into normal breathing. "What are you doing here!?" Sam snapped at her, causing her to tense back up and stare at him – shocked.

I glared up at him. So now he was just taking his anger out on anyone? What a jerk. I wanted to slap him so hard right now. How was snapping on her like that going to make her trusting us any easier? "Um… My boyfriend, Gavin…" she slowly answered. Hold the phone. Did I hear that right, or do I just have a _really_ bad mind. I smiled to myself at the thought. Sam asked what she was doing, and she said her boyfriend. Haha, dirty, dirty kids. And ew. Who does that in an old abandoned asylum? Forget _disease_, that's just wrong. On so many levels. Gross.

Shaking my head to get back to what was around me, I tried to focus on the girl freaking out at my brother's rude tone. "Is Gavin here too?"

Kat looked back at me, and nodded her head. "Somewhere," she responded. "He thought it would be _fun_, try and see some ghosts." Oh yeah, super fun. Let's just go poke the sleeping bear with a stick. And, then let's just stand there and see what happens while we're at it. That sounds logical. "I thought it was all just… you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and –"

"All right," Dean stopped her, seeing the fear creep back into her eyes. "Kat? Come on," he motioned for her to join us, and then stepped forward to help her up. "We're gonna get you out of here, and then we're gonna find your boyfriend," he told her.

"No!" she fought after standing up. "No, I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." I sighed outwardly. Of course she was going to come with us. They _always_ come with us.

Dean looked at her carefully. "It's not joke around here, okay. It's dangerous," he told her as though he was trying to scare her into leaving the place.

She looked back at him with determined eyes and clenched her jaw. "That's why I gotta find him."

I looked over my shoulder to meet their eyes and I shrugged along with Sam. I didn't see her being here a really good idea, but I also didn't see her leaving. The look she had on her face was eerily similar to Dean's. She wasn't going to budge. "All right," Dean sighed. "I guess we're gonna split up then. Let's go."

* * *

Okay, this is just straight cruelty now. Dean said he would take Kat, and gave that 'suck it up' look as Sam and I scowled at him. Even after I said I wanted to go with Dean, I got stuck with this overgrown weed thing that is my brother. "Gavin!" we yelled out together. It wasn't on purpose, but it was annoying me that we kept doing it at the same time. Is that wrong? I feel a little wrong for thinking that. "Gavin!" I yelled out again. "Hey, can you stop walking so fast?" I called up to Sam who was more than half way down the hall ahead of me. "Sam!" I snarled running up and grabbing his arm. "My legs aren't as long as yours!"

"So pick up your pace!" he snapped back before turning around to continue down the hall.

I have just about had it with him. "You know, you can chill with the attitude, man," I threw at him.

Sam spun so fast, that it took me by surprise, and I had to stumble backwards in response. "_I_ can '_chill with the attitude_'? What about _you_? You've had an attitude since I got back!"

"Can you blame me!?" I threw my hands into the air, and accidentally smacked my casted arm against a trolley cart thing in the process. Crying out in pain, I clung my arm to my chest with my opposite hand and glared up at him. "I have every right to have an attitude with you! You've been a complete jerk. I mean, come on, you come back out of nowhere and then immediately think about leaving again – and then you fight every single thing Dean and I do. Why _did_ you even come back, Sam?"

"You know why I came back!" his voice was a terrifying volume. If I hadn't been so angry, I probably would have jumped and been a little bit scared. "That thing killed Jessica! And instead of getting your priorities straight and helping me out, you and Dean just keep shoving us on all these hunts! It's like you want to keep us off track and don't even want to find Dad. All you want to do is follow his orders, and the guy isn't even here to tell you what to do."

I dropped my arm and shoved Sam back slightly. "You don't need Dean and me to find Dad! You can do that all by yourself! If you're gonna be with us, then you're gonna have to put up with hunting – because that's our _job_."

There was a groan from inside the doorway next to us, and we both practically snapped our necks in response to the sound. I shoved myself away from Sam and stalked into the room, looking around. Sam sped past me, and stopped a few feet into it, looking down and nudging something with his foot. "Hey, Gavin," he called out, but his tone was definitely more relaxed and calm.

Because I am way nicer than my brother, I knelt down and gently shook the kid who was passed out on the floor, trying to help him fully wake up. It worked too, and then he freaked out and accidentally smacked his arm against mine. I don't know who it hurt more, but this broken arm is seriously going through some trauma right now! "It's okay! We're here to help!" I told Gavin as I stood back up and Sam didn't even look down at me. No, it's cool bro, I'm good. Whatever. I wouldn't have checked on him either.

Gavin stared at us, and his eyes passed from face to face multiple times. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sam, and this is my sister Becca. Uh, we found your girlfriend," Sam told him.

"Kat?" Gavin's voice was full of panic as he pulled himself up off of the ground. "Is she alright?!"

I nodded my head, "Yeah," I assured him. "She's just worried about you. Are you okay?"

Seeming to check himself out, Gavin patted his pockets and looked around a bit. "I was running… I think I fell." You _think_ you fell? How does that work?

"You were running from what?" Sam asked him, not understanding.

"There was… there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up," Gavin explained.

Sam and I looked at each other, and even though we were angry at one another, we knew that what this kid was saying was not good, and that it was a really good chance that we needed to find the girl he'd been running from. "All right, Gavin, I need you to listen to me carefully. This girl… did she, did she try and hurt you at all?" I questioned.

"What? No, she… uh…" Gavin's face reddened, and he eyed me, seeming embarrassed.

"What? What did she do?" I spit out at him, not really having the patience to deal with this right now. Stalling isn't going to help anyone, Gavin. We need answers.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "What'd she do, Gavin?" he asked with much more calmness than I did.

Gavin signaled for Sam to near him, and I groaned as Sam gave in and allowed Gavin to whisper in his ear. Gavin pulled back shortly, and I looked over to Sam, waiting for him fill me in on whatever was super important. No, instead a small smile crossed Sam's lips, and I could see he was trying not to completely laugh in Gavin's face. "Uh…." Sam choked back a chuckle before clearing his throat. "Um… but… but she didn't hurt you, _physically_?"

"Dude!" Gavin snapped. "She –" he cut himself off and eyed me again before lowering his voice and saying the words through a clenched jaw, "she _kissed_ me. I'm scarred for life!" Gavin's voice picked back up on the last sentence, and I just eyed him. I didn't understand the word he'd made to keep low, but it sure did sound a lot like '_kissed_' and if that happened, I think _I'm_ going to be scarred for life now, too.

"Well, whatever this girl did, I am sure it could have been a million times worse," I told him. "Do you remember anything else besides whatever scarred you, and you _possibly_ falling down?"

Shuffling his feet, Gavin looked down at his shoes and then looked back up to face us. "She uh… actually…"

"Spit it out," Sam and I both burst at the same time, waiting for him to hurry up.

"She tried to whisper something in my ear," Gavin rushed out.

Sam and I both gawked at him, blinking like we were confused children or something. "Wha-what?" we both stuttered at the same time, still not really comprehending what he'd just told us.

Gavin gawked right back at us, and I'm sure it was because of the creepy twin thing. "I don't know," he sighed while rubbing the back of his neck. "I ran like hell and then –"

A loud clanging was coming from somewhere else in the wing. Before Gavin could finish his sentence Sam and I were running towards the door way, yelling for Gavin to keep up. It was like a maze trying to get to wherever this noise was, but it was thankfully growing louder. Rounding a corner, I saw Dean in the distance, banging something metal against a door. "Dean!" I yelled, putting all my effort into getting to his side to help him out.

"What's going on?" Sam yelled as he came to a stop behind me, and Gavin skidded to a stop right beside him.

Dean turned to look at us, and seemed to almost size us up and make sure we were visibly sane and okay. "She's inside with one of them," he said. I nodded. All right, we gotta get this girl out.

"Help me!" Kat screamed from behind the metal door.

Gavin pushed past me, shoving me into a wall, and screamed, "Kat!" as he pretty much threw himself against the door. Dean pulled Gavin off of the door, and eyed him like he was crazy.

"Get me outta here!"

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you!" Sam was suddenly in front of the door, making sure to speak loud enough so that Kat would hear him. "Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down!"

Dean and I both looked at Sam, completely shocked, and astonished, and surprised, and every other word you can think of to describe the moment. "She's gotta _what_?" Dean barked, while on the other hand I asked, "Are you nuts?" and even Kat didn't seem to like his idea, because she yelled, "I have to what?!" all at the same time.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate," Sam continued, not even seeming to care that no one else apparently agreed with his idea. "You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it."

"You face it!" I heard Kat yell, and I laughed immediately. She had a point. Who wants to face that? I probably would have said the same exact thing.

Sam wasn't really happy with the fact that I laughed though because he took his anger out on Kat. "No!" he yelled. "It's the only way to get out of there!"

Kat was just as frustrated though, because she quickly yelled out a, "No!"

"Look at it, come on. You can do it!" Sam coaxed.

It was as if time stood still. No one said anything, and no one moved, and I am pretty sure my breath was stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat. All of us just looked at each other, waiting, and nothing. Not a single thing happened. "Kat?" Gavin chanced, leaning his ear against the door.

A few more seconds of silence passed and I had a really bad feeling. "Man, I hope you're right about this," Dean told Sam.

"Yeah, me too, because otherwise this is on _you_," I bit. Sam glared at me, but didn't say anything and the tension grew even thicker. It was still nothing, nothing at all was happening, and I felt my index fingers start to scratch at the side of my thumbs and I began to chew at the bottom corner of my lip. I almost couldn't take it. I felt the words forming and I was ready to launch myself at the door when it finally clicked and then slowly opened, causing all of us to not even breathe. Kat emerged, and I think the loudest sigh I've ever heard came out of all of us.

"Oh, Kat," Gavin moved forward and pulled her to him.

Sam moved around them and entered the room, searching for whoever it was that Kat had been seeing. I looked up as he came back into the hall, and saw him shake his head at Dean and me. So there was nothing now. We were just as lost as before.

I ran a hand through my hair and puffed out a large breath. This was not getting to be any better of a night. It was silent again as everyone seemed to just think about what is was we should be doing next. "One thirty-seven," Kat announced.

"Sorry?" Dean shook his head at her.

"It whispered in my ear. One thirty-seven."

Dean, Sam and I all looked at each other. "Room number," we all decided at the same time.

There was a pull on my sleeve, and I followed it as Dean led Sam and me to the wall, huddling us all together. He made sure to check over my shoulder, to see that Kat and Gavin couldn't hear what we were saying, or at least weren't _trying_ to hear what we were saying. "All right. So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone –" Sam started before I cut him off.

"Then what _are_ they trying to do?"

"Maybe that's what they've been trying to tell us –" Sam began again, only to be cut off by Dean this time.

"I guess we'll find out." I nodded in agreement. Dean sighed and broke up the huddle, moving back to Kat and Gavin. "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" he asked them both.

Kat turned from where she'd been talking to Gavin and looked at us as though we were nuts, but she also looked a little relieved. "That's an understatement."

Dean then turned to face Sam and me. "Okay. You guys get them outta here. I'm going to go find room 137."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I threw my hands in the air, stopping anyone from being able to make their next step. "Why do I have to help him babysit? I vote that I go with you to find room 137. Sam can handle the kids on his own."

Before Kat or Gavin could snap about my multiple comments on their being related to children, Sam stepped up. "I don't need her help, Dean."

I could tell that this wasn't going to go my way, just by the stance Dean took. He threw a hand up and tipped his head down towards his shoulder, glaring at the ground. He didn't want to hear any more of this, and he was sick of having to deal with it. "No. You guys need to go together. You not being able to have my back is only going to make me have to watch out for two people. I need you to go with Sam, Becca. Just don't kill each other, okay?"

"But, Dean –" Sam started, but immediately stopped when he got the older brother glare that signaled he was trying to give you a horrible and painful death with just his eyes and mind powers. It was no use. We were stuck together, and all because I had a broken arm. I have never hated being right-handed so much in my entire life.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-eight.**

**Ah, okay. I want to apologize to those that I promised this chapter including my own 'special' addition. As it turns out, this chapter ended up being fairly long on its own, and the things I promised will instead be in the NEXT chapter - which I am working on as you read this! Forgive me. This was not the hate I kept mentioning, by the way!**

**This may not be my best work, but I promise, I will try to make things better! It's been a busy month, and it's catching up to me, and I am trying to balance it all. I just hope it's meeting your expectations.**

**On to much more important matters!**

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**Disclaimer.**

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"So. How do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" Kat asked us. This was like the eighteenth question she'd asked us since we split from Dean. And I still wasn't too happy about that. I groaned and rolled my eyes at her persistence.

"Because it's our job," I groaned at her while glaring at the back of Sam's head while he led us all towards the door. This is almost verbatim what I just told Sam. I even bet that he rolled his eyes at my comment too.

Sam didn't answer either, he just kept leading us on, and I am sure he was trying to ignore what I'd just said. I shot my eyes from the back of Sam's head, to Kat's as she scoffed. "Why would anyone _want_ a job like that?" My eyes instantly narrowed at her skull, and I found myself wishing her hair to start on fire. _Why_ do we want a job like this? We _don't_, but we do it so that idiot kids like _you_ don't go getting themselves killed by whispering ghosts in haunted asylums! I had to physically fight the urge to launch myself at her and yell in her face. Do you see what fighting with Sam has done to me? I'm not the sweet Becca you met anymore! This is getting out of hand.

There was a laugh that came from the front of the line, and I listened as Sam told Kat, "We had a crappy guidance counselor." Okay, so that was a little funny. If I hadn't been so upset with him, I would have laughed and not just smirked with pride.

"And Dean? He's your boss?" Kat pressed on.

"Basically," I sighed while Sam spun and looked down at her, angrily and told her, "No." That's when our eyes met and I could feel the tension building.

Kat eyed both of us, not knowing what to say next. "So, which is it?" she questioned.

"Dean's oldest," I snarled while continuing my stare down with Sam. "He calls the shots when Dad isn't around. Always has. Always will. That's just how it goes." I was definitely telling Sam this as well as Kat and Gavin. "_Basically_," I eyed Kat with an evil sneer, "it's orders."

Oh, that was a hot button for Sam, for sure. "Some of us stopped following orders, and learned how to grow up and make their own decisions instead of always doing what they were told, like some child."

"Child? You think I'm a child. Why? Because I believed Dad when he said that he knew what was best? I was a good daughter, and a good sister. I didn't leave my family."

Scoffing, Sam's eyes flashed a hard humor in my direction. "Oh really? A good daughter and sister? Like getting drunk in sororities? Flaunting your body just to get a few extra bucks during a pool game? Acting like a _whore_? Dean may let you get away with that crap, but you're my sister too, Becca, and –"

I stepped right up to Sam and pressed my chest against his as I put every ounce of anger and frustration into my eyes and voice. "I'm warning you Sam –"

"What, Becca?" he chuckled, matching my look. "It's not like you'd do anything. Dean hasn't given you permission to," he growled as some sort of challenge.

I watched his eyes, and saw that slow glimmer of victory begin to seep into them. That glimmer pushed me over the edge, and I shoved him back with as much force as I could – causing him to stumble. Sam reinforced his stance and instantly pinned me to the wall between Kat and Gavin, his arm under my chin. I could tell just by the way his eyes were slits that he wanted to hurt me. "That's right, Sam," I spit out at him as I tried not to show my fear of his arm on my neck. "Go ahead and hit me. Choke me out. Let me fall to the ground so I'm out of your hair. That's what you want, right? You do it, and then you can go ahead and tell Dean and Dad just what you did."

Kat and Gavin were tugging at Sam's body, trying to pull him off of me. His hold on me wasn't too tight, and I knew that he wouldn't hurt me, because it was me, and because Sam wouldn't do that to a girl. Hell, let's be honest, he probably couldn't even do this to anyone. He was just holding me back, but it had been how many years – and we'd never fought like this. So I knew that he _wouldn't_ do it, but I feared that he really _wanted_ to do it. Our glares deepened, and at that moment I knew that every ounce of anger I had for him after that phone call made sense.

"You guys," Kat begged as Sam continued to hold me against the wall. "Please stop." Sam and I never blinked as we looked at each other, and time seemed to stand still until he dropped his arm and then grabbed my arm and shoved me ahead of the line. I spun quickly and went to move back over to him, to punch him in his face, when Kat put her hands on my chest, and tried to hold me back. I say _tried_ because if I had really wanted to, I could have moved her out of my way no problem. "Just, just help us find the doors," she urged, trying to do anything she could to get us separated.

"Yeah," I nodded. "We've gotta get you guys out of here and get back to Dean." I didn't want to turn my back on Sam, but I allowed Kat to place a hand on my shoulder as though she were some sort of guide as we ventured down the hall.

I managed to eventually shake Kat's hand off my shoulder, and she handled it pretty well. The tension was as thick as the walls around us. It was as though the gods answered some sort of prayer that I'd been making though, because the door finally appeared, and I quickly half-jogged over to it. The sooner I get Kat and Gavin out of _here_ I can go back in _there_ and find Dean. Whether or not Sam joins us really is not really any of my concern at this point. I exhaled as I placed my hands on the handle and moved to open the door. And it didn't. I tugged on the door again, trying to both push and pull, hoping to move it just even a smidge. And it didn't... again. That's when I got intense with it and started to practically bounce in the air along with the movements I was trying and failing to get the door to do. I gave up as the other three finally stopped a few feet away from me, and I turned to face them with my tongue stuck in a cheek. "All right, so we've got a problem," I told them. Kat shook her head, not understanding, and I demonstrated by pulling on the door once more.

"Then break it down," Gavin demanded.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, yeah, go for it. You throw yourself against the metal barrier. I'd rather not pop a shoulder, but hey, you're the big bad tough guy – let me know how it works out for ya," I sarcastically replied.

Gavin turned to Sam, "Then there's got to be a window," he suggested.

Kat shook her head. "They're barred, Gavin."

"Then how are we supposed to get out?"

"I don't think we are," I told him honestly as I looked up to Sam to gauge his response to not being able to make sure that they were out of here and safe.

Sam's voice pulled Kat and Gavin from looking at me, to looking up at him. "There's something in here. It doesn't want us to leave," he explained.

"Those patients…" Kat trailed off, seeming worried.

"No," Sam and I told her at the same time. "It's something else," he finished with a lowered brow while eyeing me with annoyance. "We're gonna have to try and find some other way out of here. All right, I'm gonna go back see if there's something we passed –"

I cut him off, sidestepping around Kat, "And what does that mean for me?"

Sam looked down at me and sighed. "You stay with them and find, I don't know, a window without any bars or something. We need to get them out of here," he ordered as he wandered away while pointing down the hall. I didn't even get a chance to argue with him before he disappeared. I just huffed and spun around, stomping away from Kat and Gavin to try and find any other door around us.

My search ended up being a total and complete failure, so instead of throwing Gavin through the door like I wanted to, I was squatting down towards the floor, my back resting on the wall behind me while I played with my flashlight. I was looking ahead, and sticking my tongue behind my lip as Gavin continued to complain and whine and insist that there was some way through the metal barriers. He had already told me that I wasn't trying hard enough; and that if this was my supposed "job", that I wasn't very good at it. Hence me wanting to bash his skull against the wall. He was pacing in front of me, while Kat leaned against the wall beside me, standing to her full height. "What if you like, pick the lock?" Gavin questioned.

"Gavin, listen to me," I sighed while I stopped playing with my flashlight. "We cannot just '_pick the lock_' because whatever wants us in here isn't going to just let us out. So, sit down, shut up, and wait for Sam to come back like the rest of us are."

He rolled his eyes at me and just continued to pace and complain. I did my best to shut him out, but was about to snap all over him when I heard feet scuffling in the distance. Standing up immediately, I put myself between Gavin, Kat, and the sound, ready to be some sort of protection for them. I won't lie, part of me relaxed a little bit when I saw it was Sam, and the other part of me was angry just to see his stupid head. "All right, I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out," he told us as he ran a hand through his hair.

"So what the hell are we gonna do?" Gavin immediately asked him; clearly upset at the information he had just been given.

"Well, for starters, we're not gonna panic," Sam told him with a skeptical look, and then looked over to me, as if questioning what was going on.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in response, showing him that he shouldn't even bother to try and understand. Gavin flipped though, and was practically right in Sam's face yelling, "Why the hell not!" as someone's phone started to ring.

I threw my hands up and held Gavin back as Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Whoa, who do you think you are?!" I yelled at Gavin who was so angry his nostrils were flaring. "You don't get to yell at him, I do. Watch yourself kid, we're doing what we can to get you out of here, so let us do our job!"

Holding back Gavin and trying to get him to step down from me was a lot harder than I thought – because I actually thought that this kid wouldn't really fight me getting in his face. I was wrong, and he kept trying to shove past me to get to Sam; probably to get in his face. Sam's voice caused me to stop trying to stand against him though. "All right, Becca can't pull a trigger because of her cast, so can either or you handle a shotgun?"

"Wait, what? What are you talking about? Who was on the phone?" I threw at him.

"That was Dean. The thing is goin' after him, and I'm gonna go help," Sam explained with a hard sigh.

Um, nooooooo. That's now how this works. "I'm going with you," I told him instantly.

Sam stopped and re-gripped the shotgun he was ready to hand out. "No, you're not. You're staying here, and making sure nothing gets them," he indicated to Kat and Gavin.

"Says who?" I snarled.

"Says me. Oldest is in charge, _remember_? So be a good soldier, and stay with them. Which one of you can handle this?" Sam held the gun in the air, showing Kat and Gavin.

Kat quickly snatched forward and brought the gun to her chest, shocking us all. "My dad took me skeet shooting a couple 'a times," she admitted shyly.

Shaking my head I turned back to face Sam. "Knock it off. This is more important than your stupid dislike of me right now. That's my brother this thing is going after, and I'm not letting you go down there alone to save him. Now, I'm coming with you. Unless you got a really good reason I shouldn't." It wasn't just anger in my voice – it was fear. Fear that Dean was seriously in trouble, especially if he had to call Sam for help.

"I can handle it, Becca. Dean didn't say to bring you, so you're staying here. Someone has to make sure that they don't get attacked, and right now the only person to do that is you," he explained, sending a realization into my mind. I hadn't even considered that if we both left, both of them would have been left here alone. I was more focused on the fact that my family was in possible danger. "Set her up with the rock salt and I'll be back," he bit before shoving a ton of rounds into my chest and then quickly turning and running around the corner.

There is legit steam coming off of me right now. He did not just tell me to '_be a good soldier_' and then leave me here, with a bunch of teens who can't read warning signs. Forget them maybe not being protected. She had a shotgun, right? "Is… Is this loaded?" Kat voiced from behind me.

Hanging my head, I turned to face her. "Yeah. It's got rock salt rounds in it. The salt won't kill a spirit – but it will help repel it; buy more time if we need it. So, if you see something, anything, you shoot, got it? I'm not going to be able to do it for you, so you need to be on your game. Especially since you're the one watching my back right now." I handed her a bunch of the rounds and she nodded, listening to my instructions, and then stuck the leftover rounds into her pockets.

* * *

Gavin was back to pacing the hallway, and this time Kat and I were reversed in our stances. She was now crouched down, and I was checking my phone, and about ready to shove myself off of the wall and bolt down the hall after Sam. I didn't like this, not at all. I didn't like that Dean was somewhere, with some _thing_ after him; I didn't like that Sam was the one who was there to help him; and I didn't like that I stayed back here just to make sure that these two idiots didn't get ghost killed.

"Hey, Gavin?" Kat sighed. I looked from my phone which told me Sam had been gone for officially 27 minutes now, and hoped that Kat was about to tell Gavin to sit the hell down and stay still because he was pissing her off. Wait, or is that me he's pissing off?

I had to push myself flat up against the wall as Gavin came and crouched down beside her, as if what they were going to talk about was some huge secret or something. "Yeah?" he whispered.

"If we make it out of here alive… we are so breaking up," she announced, not even bothering to keep it at a low volume.

I stifled a laugh – no I didn't. I straight laughed, causing Gavin to glare at me and then push himself off the ground. He started to pick up his pacing again when there was a noise around the corner. I knocked my leg against Kat's, and she rose to stand right beside me, the gun positioned, aimed, and ready to shoot. "Okay, something's coming. You ready to shoot?" I asked her with sincere hope that she was completely ready to save my life in necessary. I kept my eyes at the corner of the wall, waiting, with just as much anticipation as she was, for whatever was about to round it and come our way. A head suddenly appeared, and I ducked the minute that the crack of the gun rang through the corridor.

"Damn it! Damn it, don't shoot! It's me!" was shouted from around the corner that Kat had just shot at.

"Dean!" I yelled, picking myself up off the floor and pushing Kat out of my way as she apologized.

I crashed right into him as he came from around the corner. "Son of a –" he had to physically catch me before I fell to his feet. "What are they still doing here? Becca, where's Sam?"

Furrowing my brows I looked up at him as he steadied me. '_Where's Sam_?' Sam should have been right behind him. I stepped around him, and looked around the corner as Gavin told him, "He went to the basement. You called him."

"I didn't call anybody," Dean argued.

I came back to stand next to Dean, not understanding. "His phone rang and he said it was you. Then he told me to stay here and babysit. I knew I should have gone with him!"

"No, you were right to stay with them," Dean responded. "You said he went to the basement?" Gavin, Kat, and I all nodded our heads in a positive response. "All right," Dean began to grab extra weapons and passed them out. He grabbed a gun, and almost put it in my hand until he thought twice and then handed me a thing of salt.

I stared at the container in my hand, and then up to him. "Seriously? I get salt. What am I supposed to do with this? Season them to death? I'd have to get like, _in_ the spirit for this to even work," I whined.

Dean gave me his 'get over it' look, and turned to Kat and Gavin, ignoring me as I practiced throwing salt at a spirit. I made sure keep the lip closed, don't worry. I'm not just a condiment waster. "You two need to watch yourselves," he instructed them. "And you," he poked me, "need to watch out for me. Ready?"

Tossing my flashlight over to Gavin, I nodded to Dean and we started for the basement. Waiting until we were far enough that I couldn't hear Gavin and Kat talking, I made sure they couldn't hear me either. "You think he's okay?" I asked Dean, trying not to let my worry show through in my voice.

"That's what we're gonna find out. You gonna be able to handle this?" Dean raised as we picked up our pace.

I had to actually think about it. Was I going to be able to handle Sam getting hurt? We'd been fighting nonstop lately, and I didn't even like the idea of being in the same room with him; but he was my brother. That wasn't going to change. I didn't like the idea of something hurting him, and the last thing I'd thought being that he was an overgrown jackass who deserved a punch in the face. "Yeah. I'll be okay," I decided.

We didn't talk much more as we continued our rush to the basement. Our main goal was just to make sure that we got to Sam before anything bad happened. Practically tripping over my feet on the last set of stairs, Dean called out Sam's name, waiting for a response, and then went to go through a door, but stopped in the middle of the archway. His hand was held out, signaling for me to stay back, as he jumped and raised his shotgun with his opposite hand. "Man," he growled, "answer me when I'm calling you! You alright?" he questioned as he stepped farther into the room, but indicated for me to hang back.

I didn't question this command like I had Sam's. I waited, and listened, holding my salt can at the ready. "Yeah," Sam assured Dean. "I'm fine.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean continued, his voice getting farther away as he walked further into the room.

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

I found myself sighing out of relief. If Sam knew that something lured him down here, he was on guard then. He was okay. "I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?"

Sam didn't answer right away, and my right brow rose in question. "No," he finally announced. "How do you know it was him?"

""Cause I found his log book," Dean explained. "Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a couple 'a aspirin."

"But Becca said that it was the patients who rioted," Sam argued.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. _Dr. Feelgood_ was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal… Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em, and then get back to Becca."

A chill ran down my spine. '_…made them angrier and angrier… so angry that they become homicidal..._' Sam was already angry – with me. Dean needed to get him out of there, right now. Something deep down inside told me that we needed to hurry.

"How? The police never found his body," Sam insisted.

The footsteps that had started coming towards the door, quickly stopped. "The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself."

And cue the second spine chill. Dean actually thought about what he would do in this sort of situation? Creep. What a freak. "I don't know," Sam told him, "it sounds kinda…"

"Crazy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Exactly," Dean answered.

I peaked my head around the door frame when I heard a second door open, and their footsteps faded away. They were standing in another room, and Sam's back was too me as Dean stood ahead of him. I made sure to move as quietly as I possibly could, so that Sam wouldn't know I was down here. I mean, Dean made the point of not only keeping me back, but also saying that they would have to go back and find me – he didn't want Sam to know, and I was going to do my best to make sure that he didn't. Dean was slowly looking around the room, while Sam stood there, not really doing anything. Because he's a lazy bum, apparently.

"I told you, I looked everywhere," Sam sighed. "I didn't find a hidden room." I scrunched up my face. Sam didn't tell Dean that he had looked everywhere for a hidden room – he told me and the people upstairs that he'd looked everywhere for a way out. There was never talk about a hidden room.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden…" Dean responded with his normal come back attitude. He stood still for a minute, and I saw his head cock to the side as if listening for something. "You hear that?" he questioned.

Straining to listen to what Dean heard, I couldn't. I couldn't hear anything, so I had to assume that it was in the room with him. "What?" Sam voiced my thoughts.

Dean continued to look around, and I saw through a space between Sam and the door frame that he was crouching down and inspecting something directly in front of him. "There's a door here," he announced.

A wave of relief washed over me. If there was a door there, that means that we were that much closer to getting rid of Ellicott's body. "Dean," Sam suddenly spoke, and I watched as he raised his hands up in front of him. "Step back from the door," he ordered. I didn't understand. I couldn't see what he was holding, but the way that Dean turned and eyed Sam's chest and then his face, made me panic.

"Sam, put the gun down," Dean said as he slowly began to rise to his fully height, his hands out in front of him as a form of protection.

My breath caught in my throat and I felt my eyes go round in fear. Sam was threatening to shoot Dean. He was really going to pull the trigger on our brother, the guy who hadn't done anything wrong. If anyone deserved to have that gun pointing at them, it was most definitely me. I stepped closer to the door, and caught Dean's eyes just on the side of Sam's neck. The connection had been so fast that I doubt Sam even saw it, but Dean didn't want me to attack Sam. He wanted me to stay quiet. And even though every fiber in my being was telling me to ignore him, I wouldn't. "Is that an order?" Sam hissed.

"Nah," Dean joked, making me angry that he couldn't take this as seriously as I felt he should have. "It's more of a friendly request."

A quick _fwish_ sounded as Sam's arms raised and his sleeves rubbed against the sides of his coat. My heart was pounding in my chest. All I had to do was jump forward and I could have tackled him. But he could have pulled the trigger in reflex – shooting Dean. "'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders; I'm not Becca, Dean. I'll tell you no."

I swallowed. This wasn't good. All this anger he had for me was pointed to Dean, and I didn't know how to stop it. I knew that if I called out, Dean would flip. He'd rather have him at the end of that barrel than me, that was for sure. And it wasn't that I was scared about Sam pointing the gun at me, okay, that actually really terrified me. But I didn't have a real way to fight him back. I had a container of salt, and I couldn't pull a trigger to stop him if I needed to. "I knew it. Ellicott did something to you."

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth!" Sam instantly snapped, causing me to jump.

"What are you gonna do, Sam?" Dean spit quickly. "Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me."

My entire body tensed, and I felt myself gasp and my chest tightened as the hammer pushed the bullet forward through the barrel of the gun. Dean flew backwards, smashing through whatever door he'd found earlier and I saw him land on the floor. "Dean!" I yelled as Dean yelled, "Sam!"

Sam spun to face me, the gun pointed at my chest. I felt panic rise and my chest was heaving rapidly as a sly smile spread across my brother's face. "Becca," he spoke. "You aren't even smart enough to be a good soldier and listen to the orders I gave you. Well, since you want to be like Dean so much –"

"No," Dean called from where he laid gasping for breath on the floor in the hidden room. "Sam, you leave her alone. You point that gun back at me!"

Sam complied, but with the meanest look I've ever seen on his face. The gun was pointed back at Dean, and Sam snarled, "More orders! Don't you ever get tired of –"

Dean quickly cut him off as I looked around the floor at my feet. I need something, anything to help me right now. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones!" Dean yelled out. "This will all be over then, and Sam will back to normal." Dean was choking out his words, and I felt my chest rising with anger and fear again.

"I am normal," Sam argued. "I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here?" Sam was looking back and forth between Dean and me now, waving the gun around, and completely freaking me out. "'Cause you and Becca are following Dad's orders _again_, like the good little soldiers that the two of you suddenly are? Dean, you always were, but you," Sam spun and pointed the gun to me while focusing his anger on my form once again, "you are the thing that gets me. You never just went along. I mean you _went along_, but you had your own mind. You didn't always just go along without any questions. Who's approval are you guys trying to get?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean called out, once again trying to draw Sam's attention to him.

Sam fell for it, again, as I saw an old, broken, folded wheelchair. My brows furrowed. What that work? Could that work, there was no way in hell that it would work. I double checked to see Sam standing over Dean. "That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you two are."

"So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?" I froze and looked back at Dean. Why would he even consider saying that? We should not be putting these thoughts into our brother's head – especially when he was going super psycho at the moment.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago," Sam bit quickly.

"Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you," I watched in horror as Dean held out his gun for Sam to take. "Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." Sam didn't move. I didn't move. Dean didn't move. Everything was frozen, and I heard my heart in my ears. "Take it!" Dean screamed, and Sam finally grasped it and pointed it at Dean's face. I closed the distance between me and the wheelchair, pulling at it as hard as I could to get it to come free from the debris it was pinned behind. "You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger –"

"Dean!" I yelled, trying to tell him to stop. "No. Sam, you don't listen to him. Don't you even think about pulling that trigger, Sam –"

"But you pull that trigger, and you stop with me. You leave Becca alone, you understand me?" I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I finally managed to get one of the leg pieces to break off of the wheel chair – you know, where the foot like rests, but that rod that's connected to the chair itself? That is the part that broke. "Do it!" Dean screamed.

I came up behind Sam as I heard the click of the hammer hitting an empty barrel. My body slumped in relief. Then I heard the click again, and again. That's when it hit me. Sam was really trying to kill Dean. He wanted him dead. Red filled my sight, and I gripped the leg piece as tight as I could in my left hand, bringing my arms back and then throwing them forward. Sam's body fell immediately from the contact, and I dropped my weapon, breathing heavily. I felt so much anger seep out of my system and I looked over Sam's crumpled form to Dean who was lying in shock. "Feel better?" Dean questioned.

Continuing to breathe heavily, I nodded my head. "So much better," I told him before stepping over Sam's body and going to Dean, helping him up.

Dean struggled against the force of pain that was drawing him down, and he moved us to stand over Sam. "Man, and he really thought I was going to give him a loaded pistol. Can you believe this guy? Sorry, Sammy." Dean began to force us turn around to face back into the hidden room. I helped him farther into the room, and he tightened his grip on my shoulder, indicating to a closed cupboard. "Hey, get me over there," he groaned. I did as he instructed, and he opened the door, revealing a still decomposing corpse.

I gagged and just about dropped Dean's body. "Oh, dude, that is totally ripe. Close the door, close the door!"

"You got that salt I gave you?"

I looked over my shoulder, and groaned. "Stay here, I left it in the other room when I had to find some way to save your life."

I dropped his arm from around my shoulders and wandered past Sam's still crumpled body, picking up the container of salt while Dean yelled, "It wasn't even loaded!"

Coming back into the room, I stood beside him and opened my salt container, dumping a ton of it onto the body. I think this thing is still juicy. Dean covered it in gasoline, and just as he reached into a pocket for his lighter, something smashed into our backs and knocked us to the ground.

I tried to sit up, and then came face to face with a ghost, and from what I could tell, it was the ghost of the ripe body I'd just salted. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean not moving. Great. Way to freaking pass out when I'm about to become a ghost's midnight treat. Trying to push myself away from the spirit, the spirit came closer, speeding to my side, and grabbed my face. Bright lights were coming out of his hands on my cheeks, and he told me, "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better." '_Don't be afraid_'. Don't be afraid!? Because this is normal! Of course I'm afraid! Look at what that thing just did to my brother, to both my brothers! It turned one into a murdering monster, and knocked the other one out while he sat there with salt literally in his wounds! I searched around me and my eyes finally landed on Dean's bag, and I knew he always kept extra lighters inside of it. Reaching past the ghost as much as I could, I pulled the bag closer to me. The hands on my face continued to light up, and I felt small tingles of energy passing on my face. It was like he was slowly shocking me. My casted fingers reached the tip of the bag when I heard Dean groaning from my left. He picked himself up slowly and his back was too me as he started to word his complaints. When he finally looked over his shoulder to check on me, I'd just reached the lighter and cried out in frustration when I couldn't get it to hold right with my cast.

My head felt like it was going to explode with the currents this Ellicott freak was sending through it, and I felt my eyes start to droop. Before they fully closed and my vision went completely blurry, the hands left my face, and I saw something rise up in flames before going black.

There were light slaps on the side of my face, and I squinted my eyes, swiping my hands in the air at whatever was looming over me. "Ow! Damn it, Becca!" I heard Dean moan as my right arm, and cast, smacked into something.

"Dean?" I opened my eyes fully and pushed myself into a sitting position. "Did we get him?"

Dean sighed and fell into a sitting position beside me. "Yeah, Bec. We got him."

"Good."

There was a groan from outside of the hidden room and Sam was picking himself up off the ground and looked at us as though he didn't even know where he was.

"You're not going to try and kill us, are ya?" Dean immediately asked him.

Rubbing the back of his head, and pulling his hand forward, as if checking for blood, Sam repeated the motion a few more times. "No," he answered, seeming confused.

Dean stood up, and helped me up before we walked back over to Sam, and Dean helped him up as well. "Good," he clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Because that would be awkward."

* * *

I was avoiding Sam, even though I wasn't _as _angry with him before. I wasn't kidding when I'd told Dean that smacking him with the chair felt better. It freaking felt better. I was however, trying to make sure that I was okay after Dr. Freaky Pants went all wizard hands on my head. I felt a little more accepting of things, but was that because of the energy he shoved into my skull, or was that because I beat Sam to unconsciousness. Whatever. Not going to dwell. Going to breathe deeply and make myself one with my serenity. Ha, yeah right. Dean and Sam were walking over to where I was leaning on the Impala. I had waved a good bye to Kat, but Gavin was still angry because as we found them and walked them out of the place, he'd told me that he knew I hadn't done my job right, and that apparently I couldn't open a door since Dean walked right through it. Jackass. Whatever.

"I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there," Sam was saying to Dean as they stopped in front of me. "To both of you," Sam looked down at me and a small, yet sad, smile graced his features. Great. Make me feel bad.

"You remember all that?" Dean asked, surprised while grabbing the keys out of his pocket and spinning them around on his finger.

Sam nodded, and then looked at Dean. "Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it," he directed at me once again.

I didn't know what to think. I was angry, yeah, but somehow not _as_ angry. Does that make sense? Could thing actually be okay between us? "You really didn't mean any of that?" I posed to him, not believing any of it.

Stepping back, being taken off guard at my tone, Sam shook his head. "No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?"

Dean threw his hands up and stepped between us. "No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood, and I don't wanna hear your twin heart to heart right now either. Save it for the morning. I just wanna get some sleep," he stated before unlocking his door and climbing into the car, followed by Sam and me.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-nine.**

**So many updates lately, and I think you all deserve them. I worked really hard to get you this many in a row, because, frankly, now this may be my last one for a bit. Apologies. It's just my mini freedom from homework has now officially ended. So, I give you this chapter as a mere parting gift, and ask that none of you throw stones.**

**About this chapter:  
- First off, it's a tad shorter than what you're used to, but I wanted to end it at this spot specifically.  
- All of this is chapter is original writing, and I'm considering it to be a Post-****_Asylum_**** addition. The reason is because the basis of my idea came from the ****_Asylum_**** episode. I guess none of that really matters, but I felt like you should know.  
- Also, although it's not in this chapter, I will mention it here, and once again at the end of all this (if I remember). At the end of ****_Asylum_**** Sam receives the phone call from John. I will not be adding that to this episode's chapters. I will instead be using it as the beginning for ****_Scarecrow_**** which is the next episode in the season. Just for those of you who enjoy things to sync up with the show.**

**SPOILER ALERT.  
I will be referring to and about ****_The Amityville Horror_****. As in, I will be giving away the end of the film, and a pretty important part. Therefore, if you have not seen ****_The Amityville Horror_****, and one day wish to, I suggest that you go and watch it so that I don't spoil anything. If you have seen it, or don't care and aren't concerned, proceed.**

**Thank you to all of the reviewers, PMers, followers and favoriters. You are all so kind, and I appreciate every last one of you.**

**Special thanks to Jenmm31 for her help in a certain spot. She's a doll. Go read her story guys, it's pretty fantastic.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"I can't believe you've never seen this movie," Sam spoke in shock and amusement as I crawled onto the ed next to him and leaned against the headboard. I still wasn't fully trusting of him, and I don't think that anyone could blame me. My anger was down, but it was still brewing. I guess I hold a grudge too. Great family trait, father, thanks for passing that one along. Setting the bowl of popcorn into the hole my pretzel shaped legs made, I handed him some napkins.

Dean was standing in front of the television, hooking up the VCR that the lady at the front desk let us borrow. Okay, so I don't always like how ladies just fall all over Dean, and he just laps it up like a thirsty puppy; but today it benefitted me. We got a VCR, we got to use the microwave in the employee break room, and we got free soda and popcorn. Maybe I can train puppy-Dean and use him more beneficially.

Cracking open a soda and sucking the splash off of the rim, I shrugged. "I guess it just never came up."

"But this is a classic," Sam argued as he ate popcorn from his fist.

"Oh? Now you like classic stuff? Because you were just whining about having to listen to Judas Priest earlier," I reminded him, maybe a little bitterly.

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean popped in the movie and then flipped off all the lights. I nudged Sam and motioned for him to scoot over, so that Dean could join us. When Dean just grabbed a pillow from the head of his bed, balled it up, and then threw himself onto the bed opposite us. Looking up at Sam, I frowned and knitted my brows together while he shrugged and ate more popcorn.

I looked over at Dean, who was laying on his stomach – his head at the foot of his bed, and the pillow he'd snatched was balled up and tucked away in his folded arms while his chin rested on it, as he looked at the VHS copy right warning play across the screen.

"What, are we not good enough for you?" I asked, maybe a little angrily. It was definitely sarcastic and playful – just like me. I knew he was over our brewing arguments, and so was I truthfully, but if I had to sit next to Sam, so did he.

Dean adjusted his head on the pillow and kicked off his boots. Great. Here comes the smell. Kill me. I instinctively threw a hand up to my nose as he grunted. "No, there's just more room over here." Lies. All lies. So, so many lies coming out of his mouth right now.

"But, it's family night, Dean!" my voice was nasally, but my tone was exactly like an over ecstatic mom who tries to convince her teenage kids that it's cool.

Sam looked down at me and then sipped his soda. "Essentially, every night is family night, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Sam," I huffed, popping a piece of popcorn into my mouth. "And stop using big words. What, do you think you're cool or something?" All right fine, I wasn't over the fact that he just tried to kill my brother, and then me earlier. I think that I have the right to be upset. Me thinking I was okay was a joke. I think I just felt a little better because of the release of frustration I'd gotten to experience.

"Dear, sweet baby Jesus, what did I just do by telling Sam not to use big words? "But, on the contrary," Sam argued. "Attending Stanford introduced many complex types of circumstantial –"

I reached up and slapped a hand over Sam's mouth. I felt him laugh beneath my palm, and then his tongue swept across it. Pulling my hand back quickly, I looked up at him in horror. "Did you just lick me!?" I screeched.

Dean chuckled as Sam shrugged and shoved more popcorn into his mouth. "You asked for it."

"Oh, grody! Now I probably have some disease like AIDS or something."

I wiped my hand on Sam's pants as Dean growled out, "Okay, shut up, it's starting."

Sam nudged me, and grinned before indicating that I should '_watch this_'. I think he was slowly trying to get back on my good side. I waited, in wonder, and then became the happiest, and proudest sister ever – even if it was with Sam – when I saw a handful of popcorn go flying through the air, and litter all over Dean. That's the Sam I love! I was finding it increasingly hard to stay made at him and contain my laughter as Dean brushed the popcorn off his head and then turned to glare at, HEY! Why was he glaring at me?! My mouth fell open as I looked beside me to see Sam was pointing a finger at me and looking intently at the television screen. Forget me getting less angry with him! This was _not_ the Sam I loved. Boo, Sam! Down with trees! Boo!

Suddenly there was a pillow connecting with the popcorn bowl in my lap, and it tipped – sending a bunch of the popcorn to the floor between the beds. I looked down , with Sam, and I think we both silently mourned the loss of so many lightly popped souls. Lifting my now angry eyes, I stuck my tongue out at the back of Dean's head, as he returned to his previous position and the opening credits began to play.

"Dude, I thought this movie was gonna be scary," I complained as the old school 70's scene played out.

"Here we go," Dean groaned, rolling and twisting himself into a more comfortable position.

Sam stopped chewing long enough to drag his eyes from the screen and over to Dean who was practically glaring at the playing movie. "What?" Sam asked him.

Dean didn't even look over at Sam, but if you know Dean, you know he sighed and his eyebrows rose up as his head moved with the words. "Becca talks during horror movies so that she doesn't get scared. She complains about the movie the whole time, tearin' it apart, and then at the end says it's complete crap."

"I do not!" I actually do. I scare easily. Like really easily. And Dean liked horror movies. I like more action based movies. I pick almost anything over horror; but you try being a seventeen year old girl versus a twenty-one year old guy for the remote. Bet you lose and end up watching _The Lost Boys_ too. They're growing on me though, when I can do my fool proof method that is.

"Why do you think we haven't watched it.?"

"'Cause it's from the 70's and sucks and no one should watch it."

Dean used the remote to pause the movie and rolled on to his side to face us. "All right, fine. Twenty bucks says you can't be quiet and not complain and watch this movie without being scared."

I glared at him, and knew this would be a struggle. But, I am a Winchester, damn it. I'll prove him wrong the best way I can, and for as long as humanly possible. "Fine," I bit.

Dean stuck his large hand out and we shook on the deal. I settled back into my spot and physically bit my tongue to keep from talking. Dean laid back on this stomach and started the movie. But instead of just playing it from where we'd left off – he restarted it. Uh oh, now I definitely know that I am out twenty bucks.

We weren't even six minutes in when I jumped and slapped a hand to Sam's thigh out of fright. "Scared yet?" Dean teased from the other bed, only to have em throw a handful of popcorn at him.

Okay, I don't know if you have ever seen this movie, but dude, I was straight scared. My twenty bucks? Yeah, that went '_bye-bye_' about two minutes after Dean had teased me, and about being scared. At one point, Sam's reaching over for some popcorn resulted in me flipping the bowl and diving from the bed, to land in a huddle on the other side of Dean. Did I mention that I scare easily? And freak myself out a bunch? Dean shoved me off his bed and I gingerly crawled next to Sam and gave him a grin and murmured an apology – only for him to laugh at me. Not a mean laugh, more of a guy chuckle. Didn't make me feel any better though. Placing the empty bowl on the table between the beds, I stared intently at the screen.

We were at the part where George breaks down the wall in the basement. The camera was on his face, and with the music, and the anticipation, and their faces, I couldn't hold it in anymore! A loud, shrill scream suddenly filled the room. My eyes were wide and my own hands flew up and slapped to my mouth. Oh my gosh! The camera panned over and showed what all the build-up was for, and I dropped my hands. Well I feel completely dumb. A freaking floating head? How in the?! Sam was silently chuckling as he finished his soda, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. Glancing at the other bed, I saw no movement and heard no comment. Did he really just sleep through that? No way in hell… Did he? Even I jumped at the sound. He really is a log, huh? And he is being a very bad hunter at the moment. Maybe his subconscious knows that I'm not really in danger and that after how I took out Sam earlier, I can still protect myself from the movie monster, even if I am partially broken. That's got to be it. I am sure my subconscious told his subconscious. It's either the subconscious thing, or the being shot thing. I mean, I imagine that being shot will wear you out. No, totally the subconscious thing.

My body was completely alert as the rest of the movie played. I continued to jump and throw my hands at the screen while asking, "Are you serious?" and "Sam, did you see that?!" all the way until the end credits rolled.

"So?" Sam got off the bed and stretched out his long limbs.

"Worst ending, ever!" I huffed as I watched him go and start to rewind the tape via the VCR because the remote was buried under Dean. That's right people, we follow the '_be kind, rewind_' rule. No fancy discs for us. We're not exactly rich. And we have been burned _way_ too many times because of you non-rewinders.

"What?" he gasped with a smile. "How can you say that?"

Leaning over and turning on the lamp that sat on the table between the beds, I quickly looked over to Dean to see if the sudden light would wake him. It didn't. Settling back against the headboard, I answer him. "Sam, seriously. They got in the van and drove away. No scary monster running after them, no spirit holding them back. They escaped no problem!"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned off the television before leaning against it and waiting for the hum of the VCR to stop. "You know that it's supposed to be based off a true story, right?"

I was collecting our empty soda cans and bunched up napkins, stuffing them into the bowl. "You're kidding. That isn't even logically possible," I told him as I then began to pick up all of our fallen popcorn comrades. Such a waste of good butter and salt. "That movie would have been totally different if it was real."

The high pitched hum had slowed and was now more to the level of Dean's heavy breathing slash light snore cross. The VCR clicked and Sam quickly pressed play to check the time and see if it had gone all the way back to the beginning of the tape. Gosh, did you ever get the VCR that would only take your movie back part of the way, and then it would start playing again? Man, even as a child, I thought those were pointless. Oh, no, don't worry, VCR. I actually wanted you to only go back and show me the same scene where all the kids got turned into donkeys while hanging out at Treasure Island in _Pinocchio_. That had a been horrible and traumatizing moment in my childhood, but please, let's re-watch it. You can bet your sweet ass that I was the best behaved kid after seeing that. Until Dad told me I wouldn't really turn into a donkey that is. Freaking Dean let me believe that for like, ever. I still shudder and cringe a little during that part. That and the pink elephants in _Dumbo_; I mean, who's bright idea was it to put _that_ in a children's movie? Pink elephants bouncing around and dancing and creeping me out and shit. Anyway, apparently this machine had gone all the way back, because Sam pulled out the tape and slid it into the paper case.

"Not if that's what really happened," he argued as he pressed the power button to the tape player.

"Dude, do you really think, knowing what we know, that if that story had really happened, that a hunter wouldn't have shown up and taken care of it? I didn't see any hunters in the movie – not even hunters pretending to be cops or something. Ergo, fake story," I stated while walking over and setting the bowl onto the wobbly table by the main door.

Sam set the tape, in its case, down on top of the VCR. Stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, he shrugged. "I don't know, Bec. You know that hunters don't usually want the attention or anything. Blend in, remember? If there was a hunter, he probably had the family keep quiet about it. Just 'cause you don't see him, doesn't mean he wasn't there."

Damn him, he was right. And he knew he was right. Crap. "Whatever, Sam. What do you know?" I tried to sound a little less bitter, but even I knew I was freaking out now.

"I know you're scared," he teased, causing me to narrow my eyes.

I tried to wave him off, and act cool, but I couldn't even convince myself as I looked over to the clock on the wall. 2:06. Damn. "Pssh, yeah right. I am so not… Will you stay up 'til 3:16 with me?" I pouted. I don't think you know how hard it was for me to ask him to do that, either.

Sam chuckled and nodded before sitting on the couch. "I wanna talk to you anyway," he was way more serious and that told me that whatever he wanted to talk about probably wouldn'tbe as lighthearted as he had been before.

"Oh, come on! I don't wanna have some heart to heart, sit down, talk about our feelings, serious moment right now!" I whined as I saw his face fall slightly. Well, that face will _not_ make me change my mind. I am too angry to have a bonding moment. Those eyes, though. Damn those eyes. Ugh, they had widened and then made him look like I'd just completely kicked his sandcastle or something. He actually looked like he might cry. "Don't you look at me like that, Sam Winchester! That's not fair!"

Sam's frown deepened and his eyes lids lowered dejectedly. He'd used that word earlier, and I looked it up when he wasn't looking – in case you were wondering. "We need to talk, Bec," he sighed quietly.

"No!" I found myself suddenly sitting next to him on the couch and giving him bright, wide eyes while grabbing his forearm. "We don't! That's the beauty of _us_, Sam. We just_ know_." And we did know. He knew when I was angry with him, I knew when he was trying to make up for shooting Dean and then pointing a gun at my chest.

"You were the one that said we didn't talk enough," he interjected.

"Really? You're gonna relive _that_ argument again?" especially since we were in a totally _different_ fight right now. "I thought we left that issue back in Lawrence," I bit, leaning away from him. It's like a never ending circle with this guy. I'm just about ready for this ride to stop and let me off.

But because Sam stands for '_Stubborn Ass Muthafugga_', he kept pushing and pushing – making my blood boil. "Ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away. We need to talk about his. Clear the air. You can't keep wanting to kill me."

What a girl. "I don't want to _kill_ you, Sam, _maim_? Maybe. Relax. You really just piss me off, a lot, lately." There, that should make him feel better.

"I piss _you_ off?" he had that '_guess again_' air right through his words and it physically made my '_I'm gonna slap you_' reflex twitch. It didn't go into full blown movement mode, but it twitched. "What about you pissin' me off?"

I scoffed happily. "Don't flatter yourself. I pretty much piss Dean off on a daily basis. Me pissing you off seems to be inevitable anyway lately."

"Can you just try and be serious? I'm trying to talk to you about that fight before Lawrence, and you're just acting like it's no big deal!"

"That's because it _is_ just no big deal! Nothing I say to you is now is going to be different from what I told you then, and what I have been telling you now! It's like you're not getting it or something! You continuing to apologize and acting like what happened didn't actually happen is no different than me just holding onto my anger for you," I was loud and my voice was rising in pitch – right alongside my annoyance.

Sam moved his whole body, bringing a leg up onto the couch, and resting an arm on the top of the back of the structure as he glared at me. "So you're fine with this?" he used his free hand to indicate back and forth between us in a quick, repeated motion.

"No, but I don't really see a chance for things to go back to the way they were. I mean, Sam, You slammed me into a wall and thought about choking me, I shoved you and beat you with part of a wheelchair – we _physically_ fought today, and that's never happened. At least, we never physically fought like _that_. Not to mention that apparently I can't really trust you anymore since you tried to kill me and Dean! You freaking _shot _Dean," I told him honestly. And there's that wounded puppy, broken sandcastle look again.

"You really mean that?"

Shrugging, I avoided his eyes. "Yeah, I do. I mean, look at us. This is probably the most we've talked or anything since we started fighting. And even now, we're fighting."

His expression didn't change. "We used to talk like this all the time though; not fighting, actual _talking_ – you said it yourself. I know you miss us being close."

"That was a long time ago. You know as well as I do that things haven't been the same since you came back." I could feel the heat of my anger rising. Why couldn't he just drop this?

"Well then talk to me about it!" he yelled, standing up and looking down to me.

"It's not just that easy to talk to you anymore! We're yelling right now as it is! Look, things have changed, Sam!" I yelled back, not standing, but still looking up at him. "You keep talking about not liking the way I am now, but you don't know what happened!"

He ran his hands through his hair and then interlaced his fingers, his palms resting on the back of his head. "What besides you have changed, Becca?"

My leg that had been bent up collapsed and my foot hit the floor. My brows were very low and very knitted together. "Excuse me?" I seethed as the amount of venom in my voice hung in the air.

Dropping his arms and shrugging Sam hissed, "Yeah. Let's talk about _that_ then. When I left, you were nothing like this," he waved a hand up and down in the air, signaling to all of me. "You didn't notice that guys were noticing you – hell, you didn't even notice you were noticeable! You were just this innocent, oblivious girl who thought everyone in the world had a kind heart and good morals. You didn't use your body to get your way, or for anything. You didn't go out of your way to _show_ anything to anyone; and you definitely didn't go and try to get people to see you!"

"You don't have a clue about anything," I growled as fists formed next to my legs. Sam just gave me that '_you're so full of it_' look. "What do you want from me, Sam?!"

"I want you to tell me what happened!"

"I already told you what happened! You left! You just walked out of the door and didn't look back. As long as you got to go to Stanford, just screw everyone else, right?" tears were building and I saw Sam's mouth open for a rebuttal. "No, you wanted to know, so now I'm telling you! You didn't even think what leaving would do! And then! After I just start to grab onto any kind of hope that maybe, just _maybe_, I can actually be a part of the family without you; after a whole year of Dean and Dad hounding me about not being you – you had the balls to call me! To effing _call_ me, and on our _birthday_! But would you ever actually talk to me? Oh no, not Sam Winchester, asshole brother! No! You just do these stupid little 'ring once' games! Then after me trying to talk to you, and after months, and months, and months of me begging and pleading into your voicemail that you just talk to me or come back – you stopped everything. You abandoned me, twice, Sam! Twice! Do you even have a clue how that made me feel? How much I fought to try and see you?"

_"But, Dad, you aren't listening!" I groaned as my dad zipped up his weapons bag. He wasn't facing me, but I could tell from the way he was moving things around that he was just as frustrated I was. "I'm ready to come with you! Just let me prove to you that I'm good enough to come with you again! I don't need Dean to run through drills and babysit me anymore."_

_"You aren't ready. You haven't been able to focus in weeks. You're staying here," he was surprisingly calm with the way he was talking to me._

_He was also right, though. I hadn't been focused on anything except the fact that Sam hadn't returned any of my calls in weeks – which had a caused a thousand ideas to go running through my head. Every single one of my thoughts involved Sam being hurt. That was the real reason I wanted to go. Not some useless whatever on the side of a hill in some backwoods wherever. "I know you're going to see him. Just let me go with you. I have to see him – make sure he's okay."_

_Dropping the duffel bag to the table with a slam, my father turned to look at me. "What?"_

_"I know why you keep taking all these cases around California. Why you have been keeping us west coast based a lot… You check up on Sam. And you take Dean sometimes too. But you always leave me sitting here in the motel. Just take me with you, just this once. Please!" I was beyond begging as I walked to stand right in front of him. "I haven't seen him in almost two years. He never even said good-bye. I just…"_

_My father's face hardened. "You're too emotional, Becca. I can't have you running up to Sam, or allowing your feelings to get in the way. It's just better that you stay here until you can fully accept that he's gone."_

_"Like you do? You don't really accept he's gone, either! Him or m –" I stopped myself. Going there is a low blow and not fair. Whether I finished the word or not though, he jumped._

_"Who do you think you are?! Don't you dare talk about her like that!" he seethed as he glared down at me. "You don't remember!"_

_I flared back. "Maybe not, but I know I'll remember this for forever! And you refusing to let me go is only going to make it worse –"_

_"Becca, you're not –" he cut me off, but I wouldn't listen. I immediately continued, cutting him off myself._

_"Stop holding everyone back! You keep pushing me away, just like with Sam! Do you want me to leave too? All you have to do is say the words!"_

_"That's enough! I said you're not going! You're brother left by his own choice, I didn't make him go!"_

_I was yelling now. "You didn't stop him! It's your fault he's even gone in the first place!"_

_"I said enough!" he bellowed, causing my body to twitch in response. I'd crossed that line, and I knew it. I didn't often even go _near_ that line, but since Sam had gone to Stanford, the line and I had become fairly familiar with each other. "I didn't make your brother leave, and I'm not going to make you leave either – but if you're gonna go, then go! But don't think about coming back!"_

_Is he serious right now? '_Don't come back_?' Who says that? We just stared at each other, each of our bloods boiling. IF I got anything at all from my father, it was quite possibly his temper. "I'm going with you," I announced with a roll to my neck._

_"Jesus Christ, Rebecca! I do not have time for your shit right now! You are staying here with Dean and if you argue with me on this anymore, so help me, you will wish you were the one at Stanford!"_

_'_Rebecca_'. Really? God, whipping out the whole first name always ended the argument, because if you try to fight that, you're pretty much committing suicide. I don't know why I said it before storming out, or why I thought it – but I did. "God, I hate you!" I screamed before flinging open the motel room door and slamming it shut behind me as I exited the room. I wasn't afraid of him coming after me; it wasn't too often he did anymore, even if he did '_have time for my shit_' – which lately, he never did. I walked to the end of the hall and down the stairs, stomping and glaring at everyone I passed. It didn't take long until I was underneath the staircase, leaning against one of the banisters. Pulling my phone out, and shoving my thumb immediately against the speed dial, I glared straight ahead towards my father's truck._

_The call on the other end rang through two full times and then stopped part way through the third before the click signaling the voicemail started. Bringing the phone away from my ear and dropping my hand, I groaned loudly and mentally ran through the all too familiar recording before placing the device against my ear as the beep sounded._

_"Okay, you know what, Sam? This is the last time I am callin' you. You haven't responded in at least three weeks, and for all I know you're lying dead somewhere. You must be, because if you weren't you'd friggen answer. You wouldn't be doing this to me – driving me insane. Then again, you left me here, alone, with no second thought, so who really knows. You wrecked everything, I hope you know that. Dad doesn't listen, and he pretty much just keeps me on an even tighter leash. Dean is about as useless as ever. He doesn't care. Hell, I'd be surprised if he noticed I wasn't in the room at night. But why am I telling you any of this? It's not like we've talked in years – but at least you used to call me… It was some sort of sign to show me that you at least cared or remembered me a little bit. I know it was you, Sam. Never picking up but always calling back, ringing once, like you couldn't handle actually hearing my voice – because I would have bitched you out. I hope you know that," I allowed a shaky breath to escape my chest. My body shook with the exhale, and I squeezed my dangling hand into a fist and shook my head. I was going to go through with this. "But I'm done. I'm not calling you anymore. I get it. You don't care anymore. You want nothing to do with me. I hope you can live with yourself, Sam, because I am done trying to. I miss you, and I really hope you're alive. And maybe you should stay gone, forever – because I don't know that I would ever be able to forgive you if you came back."_

"Wait," Sam stopped my story with a hand raise and a small grin, as though this were some kind of joke. "I never got that message from you," he said to me with a crinkled, yet humored brow.

My face fell. Everything that had happened that night stemmed off of my anger and harbored feelings that I'd had while making that phone call. All of that created a sense of loneliness and abandonment and lack of self worth that played part in me running to Darrel and spilling my drunken guts. All the anger that I'd felt towards Sam because of that one word, that one accusation – that all because pointless. If he hadn't gotten my message, I could no longer subconsciously consider myself innocent while blaming him. I had to completely blame myself. "What?" my voice was weak and it was hard to make a sounds. There was desperation and pleading and I felt my body loosen with shock.

"Becca," Sam's voice was stern, as though reprimanding a child, "I never got that message."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty.**

**Before we get anywhere with this chapter, I would like to just send my prayers, apologies, and thoughts out to those who were affected the tragedy that occurred at the Boston Marathon. For those of you who don't know, there were multiple bombings around the race of the Boston Marathon, killing some, and injuring many others. I think we should all just take a moment for them, sending them strength and prayers.**

**About this chapter.  
- I have been working on this Post-****_Asylum_**** piece since February. It has been very hard for me to try and 'perfect' it and even though I still don't think it's perfect, I'm putting it up anyway.  
- This, again, is all original writing.  
- I have included the flashback from earlier in the chapters (Chapter Twenty-five) where we first learned about what happened to Becca. Although, you've all read it, I thought that with her telling Sam, it would be important to have all the pieces together.**

**I hope you all enjoy this a lot! I wasn't going to put it up this soon, but you can thank Jenmm31 for telling me to.**

**Thank you to all the readers, reviewers, and alert adders! You guys make this just so much fun to write, and I do my best to keep you all coming back! Thanks so much, you guys!**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"_Becca…I never got that message_."

My breath was coming out strained, but in parts as I pushed off the couch and separated myself from him. "What do you _mean_ you never got that message?! Do you _know_ how many times I looked at my phone while I sat at that bar, waiting for your name to flash across that stupid screen?! Do you know how much I drank because of the _anger_ and _pain_ I felt? How I _waited_ for you to respond? Because I felt completely alone and abandoned! Do you know what I went through then – what I go through _now_ because of you not responding to that message? God, Sam! I thought you-you-you _hated_ me! I _hated you_ because of that!" I was shaking as I looked at him. Everything was spinning as the whole night I'd kept so successfully buried came flooding back. I found myself leaning forward and clutching the arm of the couch to support myself. I left him that message, I know I did. He was lying. He had to be. "You got that message, Sam," I told him with a warning tone.

He didn't look too sure as I met his eyes. I am betting it was from however I looked. There wasn't a mirror nearby, so I don't know what my expression looked like, but it probably wasn't good. I felt weak, and almost like my legs wouldn't support me. I felt drugged, like I had no idea what was going and my body was numb. My face felt cold, as though it had drained of all color, and my mouth was dry. Nothing made sense. "I'm telling you I never got th –"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" I screamed at him.

"Becca, what's the big deal? It was just a pissed off message, right? I mean, it's not like this message was _that_ important. It was pretty much just you venting to me, like normal," Sam's voice was full of what I could only describe as panic as he seemed to be convincing himself while rising off the couch to check on me.

My head was shaking back and forth as the word '_No_' repeatedly past my lips. Tears were brimming my lids and nothing around me was registering – until a light, but firm grasp landed on each of my shoulders; quickly pulling me back to the present. "No!" I yelled, whipping myself from under Sam's hold. Everything was screaming in my head, telling me it was all my fault. If I had been smart, I would have gone back to the motel room and waited for Dean. None of this would have happened. "You do _not_ get to touch me or comfort me or _anything_!" I cried. "This-this all this happened because of that phone call! I blamed _you_! And now, now it's all a-a-a _lie_?" I threw the word out there with disgust.

Sam seemed… lost? Defeated? Heartbroken? I don't know an exact feeling. All I know is there was pain in his eyes. It almost seemed like he didn't quite know how to react. "Becca, what are you talking about? What happened?"

"Everything happened!" I exploded. "I gave in, Sam! I stopped thinking long enough to let everything get messed up!"

I was sobbing now. Well, not sobbing, but hard core crying. "Becca," Dean's voice came from the bed I assumed him to still be sleeping on. His voice was gentle – as though trying to make sure he didn't scare me or something.

"I'm sorry," I muttered as I wiped a few tears off my cheeks. My voice cracked. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

He looked like he was trying really hard to say something and that worried me. "Bec…" he trailed off, causing a lump to form in my throat as I found it impossible to tear my eyes away from him. "You never called Sam…" he spoke quietly as he looked at me with pain. "You called me by mistake. I saw your name on the screen, and you'd been driving me insane, so I sent it to voicemail. I didn't even listen to it 'til later that night…"

My body swayed with the words as though some strong force just smacked against me. I couldn't find any unscrambled words as the back of my knees found a chair and I fell into it. Then it was true. Everything was my fault. I was so stupid that I couldn't even dial the correct person in a fit of rage. I felt dirty all of a sudden, as though by me thinking everything I did, I caused all of that to happen. It was karma. That was the only explanation I had. I was such a horrible person that I actually deserved all of it. Every flood gate inside of me broke. Hard sobs were shaking my body. I was curled up, bending over, facing the floor. Tears were pouring from my eyes and seeping from between my fingers and hands that were pressed to my sockets. My head and chest hurt but I couldn't stop it. It was as though everything I'd ever felt from that day to now was finally being released.

Neither brother moved. I don't think they really knew what to do. I'd never been this big of a wreck around them before. I'd never hated _myself_ this much before. Everything Sam had said about me finally hit as truth. I _had_ changed. I was a – a _whore_. They must hate me. I must be a disgrace and burden and just, they must wish I wasn't around.

My legs moved before my brain fully formed the thought. I needed to get out of this room. I couldn't be around them. The air was so thick I couldn't even breathe. I was choking. I needed to get to the only sanctuary I'd ever had. Sam and Dean were both on their feet, ready to stop me as I moved. Shoving past Dean, he looked like he was feeling every ounce of pain that I was, and he watched me go. Sam; however, grabbed my arm as I tried to pass and wouldn't release me.

"Becca, you've got to talk to me," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

I struggled against him, trying to use my free hand to pry his fingers off of me. "Let me go!" I cried when my attempts didn't work.

His eyes made me cry harder. I felt my hate for myself grow as I saw how much pain I was causing them. How could I do that? "Please, Be –"

Dean's voice stopped him. "Sam," he spoke calmly, but with the final warning tone.

"No. Dean, she's this upset over a _phone call_? How –"

"Don't you get it!?" Dean suddenly snapped, causing Sam and me to both jump. "it's not the phone call, Sam – it's what that phone call represented; for her, it's everything that happened _after_ that phone call. Now let her go!"

Sam dropped my arm, but I think it was because he turned to face Dean and then look down at me, and not necessarily because Dean told him to. He watched me, and I continued to allow tears pass from my eyes to my cheeks, and eventually my chin where they then fell to the floor. I knew there was no way I would be able to continue to avoid telling him, and my body filled with anxiety. Sam's voice was thick, and strangled, like it was stuck in his throat. "What – what happened after that phone call, Becca?" he was quiet, and watching me carefully. I couldn't look up at him though. I knew if I looked at him or Dean, I'd start crying all over again. "Come on, please talk to me. I can't understand if you don't tell me."

I couldn't even think of how to tell him. Every word in my vocabulary was stuck in a knot in my throat as I stood there. None of us moved, but I felt their expectant eyes on my back. "Dad... Dad left," my voice cracked. "He l-left and I got ang-gry, and I went to the bar-ar…"

_Flipping the phone shut, I looked up at the stairs when footsteps approached and a shadow was cast over me through the spaces between the boards. My father didn't even look back at me as he walked towards the truck. And it's not like he didn't know I was here. He knows everything. I bet he even knows all about the phone call I'd just made. I watched him load his things into the bed of the truck before he walked around the side and got it. Not once did his eyes look back at me. Fine. As the truck roared to life and left the lot, I stalked off in the other direction._

_ It did not take me long to find the bar. The parking lot had a line of cars waiting to get in and find a spot in the jam-packed area. The music was thumping loudly and the crowds of people poured outside from within. Perfect. There were so many people that I was sure to go unnoticed. Nothing new, but right now, all I wanted was to drink. Stalking past the already drunk crowds that laughed and yelled for me to join them, I pushed my way into the even more crowded building and froze. There were people _everywhere_; I couldn't make heads or tails as to where anything would have been, and my eyes scanned to where my anger hoped the bar would be. It was a struggle to try and make my way through the walls of bodies, but eventually I ended up slamming right into the side of the bar. There were a few girls that I shouted an apology to after accidentally elbowing them, but my main focus was the man with the black tee-shirt on, who was gripping the ledge of the bar and leaning over it as he looked at me with an upraised brown and bitten lower lip. He didn't even open his mouth to ask what I wanted._

_ "Scotch!" I yelled over the ever growing noise._

_ "You got ID?" he yelled back._

_ Pulling out my plastic card, I prayed he'd believe that I was twenty-one instead of nineteen. I handed it over and told myself not to worry too much – my birthday was in a couple weeks anyway. Our birthday. My anger boiled up inside of me. He stared at the card for what seemed like an eternity; continuously flicking his eyes from the thing in his hand to my face. There was no way that this was going to work. I know that people always thought I looked young for my age, but his eyes were so judgmental right now. He chewed on his lip and then a smirk crossed his face before he handed the ID back to me. "Double?"_

_ I smiled and let out a large breath of relief. I pocketed the ID and pulled out a second card. "Yes, please, and could you start a tab?" the smirk on his face grew as he filled and slid the shot glass over before plucking my card from my hand. I lifted my glass to him as he copied the digits onto his carbonized paper. "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine if you keep bringin' these over," I announced before tipping the drink back, down my throat._

_ "Oh, I'm hoping," he grinned back._

_ Hours passed, and my body never left the spot I'd acquired at the bar. I did however steal a stool from someone. The bartender, Darrel, was shooting me a low scowl as I finished telling him about the latest fight I'd had with my dad. I couldn't tell you how many drinks I'd consumed, but I can tell you that my head was heavy, my cheeks were warm, and there was an extra '_shine_' to my eyes. Darrel was leaning forward, arms crossed on the bar as he listened intently. It was really loud. Besides all the people yelling, the music's volume was so high that my drink was vibrating in the glass. "And then –" I stopped myself to sip at my drink. "– he left!"_

_ "He left?" Darrel's eyes went wide and he seemed completely shocked at what I'd just told him._

_ Nodding my head like an excited child, I swallowed as I watched him handle a transaction with the girl who'd suddenly appeared at my right. "_Left_! He just walked right by –" hiccups were slowly appearing in my vocabulary, making drink _more_ because in _my _mind, liquid would help get rid of them. "– me and took off in his truck." I waited for Darrel to fully focus back on me before I finished my drink. "Can you be –" hic "– lieve that?! What kind of dad just leaves their kids after a fight like that?"_

_ Automatically refilling the glass, Darrel shook his head. "The kind of dad who just lets his son leave without stopping him, I guess."_

_ "Exactly!" I yelled, slapping my hand to the bar. Darrel slid the glass under my nose and I instinctively wrapped a small hand around it. "And then Sam didn't answer his phone, too!"_

_ "Sam's the one who left?" Darrel questioned as another bartender clapped him on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear, winking at me. I completely didn't register the wink as Darrel continued to listen and nodded his head in response to the other bartender._

_ "Yeah. The same one who apparently doesn't even care enough to answer his –" hic "– phone. I mean, I am just, like, _so_ angry with him, you know? Do you get what I am saying?" I waited for him to motion that I should continue as he cleared glasses from around us. "Like, I know he was never _happy_ with our life, and, dude, I get it – our whole growing up phase blew. But we're a family – so why was it _so_ easy for him to bail… especially –" I had to pause as a large amount of scotch flavored air entered my mouth from my throat, "me? He didn't even say good-bye."_

_ Darrel handed a beer to some guy on my side and then leaned forward again to talk to me, shooing the random guy away as he'd tapped my arm and tried talking to me. "And Sam's the one you were close with?"_

_ Practically spitting my drink back into the glass, I quickly responded. "The closest! Sam was my best friend! Sure, he's my older brother, but he didn't get on my back as much as Dean and he never got as angry as my dad would and does. Sam was… sensitiver. Sensitiver? Sensitivier? Sensitivity? Help me out here."_

_ "More sensitive. And so Dean is your what?"_

_ Holding up a finger, signaling him to wait, I drank from my glass. "Oh God," I breathed, "Dean. Dean is my older brother slash pretend dad slash full time babysitter slash always on my case. He is just always complaining about how I'm doing something wrong, or that I have a bad attitude, or telling me that Dad's gonna be pissed." There was a momentary silence as I twirled my glass around on the bar. "It's just… you know that Chris Farley movie, where he's like the black sheep? What's it called?" I was attempting to snap my fingers as I tried to remember._

_ "Black Sheep?" Darrel offered with a smirk._

_"Yes! I am now the new and improved Chris Farley of my family. No matter what I do, it causes more problems and I have no one to turn to anymore!" I told him before slouching in my stool and cradling my glass between my two hands._

_ Darrel watched me a moment and then said nothing to me as he served the flocks and swarms that kept coming back to the bar. "Oh, come on. I'm sure you're overreacting."_

_ My eyes had landed on the ice cubes that were floating in my glass. I didn't look up at him for two reasons. One, my eyes were very heavy and things seemed to be moving all around me, including the walls. Two, I didn't think I was overreacting at all. "No," I told him quietly, causing him to sop and lean in closer to hear me. "I'm not!" I shouted, shoving my glass away from me. Darrel caught it right before it hit the edge and toppled to the ground. "There's no one. My dad and brother left! They're gone and don't even care! They abandoned me for apparently way better things. They gave up on me –"_

_ "What about your brother, Dean?" Darrel cut me off._

_ "_Dean_?!" I leaned back in my chair, completely shocked at the suggestion of Dean being there for me. I couldn't even make my brain form a thought as to how I could begin to tell him that this was _Dean_, not some actual human being. Yes, Dean and I had '_bonding_' moments I guess, but Sam had been that middle man. Dean had a great relationship with Sam and I had a great relationship with Sam. After a while my relationship with Dean ended up being just that. A sibling relationship. He was my brother and I was his sister, and that was pretty much it. Sam leaving corrupted our relationship, too. Sam leaving screwed up everything. "Dean doesn't care. Maybe he used to, when were younger, but now I'm more of a burden than anything to him. He feels _stuck_ with me."_

_ Darrel met my eyes and I almost thought that maybe they held compassion for a second – but then that was gone. "So what does that mean? Are you going to leave him, too? Just like your brother and dad did?"_

_ My mouth fell open as I stared at him. "I'm – I'm not –" thousands of arguments flew into my brain, but my mouth couldn't register how to say them as quickly. "Not – LOOK! I'm not leaving Dean. If either of us leaves, it'd be him. He's the one with the –" hic "– the car. I'd have to go and catch a bus or some –" hic "thing."_

_ "So… would you leave if you could?"_

_ I froze. I guess I'd never thought about it. Would I leave? I slowly sipped at my drink – pondering the question. After these last two years – Sam leaving, my dad becoming twenty million times harder on me, Dean never having patience, me just struggling to stay sane… "Yeah," I finally answered. "Yeah. I want to leave."_

_ It was Darrel's turn to freeze. He gripped the bottles he'd been pulling and going to serve, setting them on the bar in front of me and leaning over them, ignoring the comments from the customer. "You're serious."_

_ "Totally," I nodded. "What's keeping me here? Dean? Maybe before – but not now. I won't go back tonight either. I'll just… go to… um… the bus station or something."_

_ "You can come back with me, to my place. Sleep it off. You might feel different in the morning," Darrel told me with a sly smile and a different look to his eyes. But my clouded brain wasn't registering the smile or the eyes – or the logic behind saying no to his request. All I understood was that someone was offering me help – something that hadn't been done for a while._

_ That was the turning point for our conversation, too. Things stopped being so '_woe is Becca_' and started being more '_whoa, Becca_'. My lashes were fluttering and my cheeks continued to warm with each compliment he spoke. I felt an unchanging smile spread across my lips and my eyes were finding it very hard to connect with his – as though he had some hold over them. When his fingers wrapped around my writs gently, or brushed against my hand as we passed my glass back and forth, I felt small surges of, what I can only describe as electricity, grow until they reached my heart. I was falling into uncharted waters, and I was falling fast. This was so out of my realm of normal. Never had I accepted advances like this. Sure, I'd had a first kiss or whatever, and the occasional make-out with a handful – small handful – of crushes; but there'd always been that big brother blockade stopping me. Now? Now, there was nothing. There was just me and Darrel._

_ The door bounced and vibrated as he slammed me against it, before pressing his body against mine as our lips met, spread, and allowed our tongues to roam. My hands pulled his head closer, his tongue deeper, and my body molded against his as a deep sigh-moan emitted from my throat. His hands gripped tightly around each of my cheeks, and I gasped as he lifted me up higher into the air, bringing my head above his while my legs wrapped around him. I smirked and placed my hands on the side of his face before biting his lower lip and tipping my head back slightly to give into the magical fire his hands were sending throughout my entire body. As his mouth found the crook between my neck and chest bone, a pounding came from the other side of the door._

_ "How long's it gonna take you to do that pull, Darrel, come on! It's ten minutes before last call!" the voice yelled angrily._

_ "Keep your shirt on! I'm coming!" Darrel yelled with a frustrated face before leaning his head up against the right side of my collar bone. He gently lowered me and made sure I could stand up straight. "Think you can handle another half hour?"_

_ I don't know if it was the alcohol, the heat that still lingered in my core, or the high I was feeling after that – but I was out of breath and really dizzy. "Yeah. I think – I think so," I told him as I pressed a palm heel against the side of my head._

_ We left the room, and a very angry guy stood there with crossed arms and angered eyes. "This?! This is the beer pull you needed to do fifteen minutes ago?" the guy yelled, using a hand to raise and lower in the air as he indicated to me._

_ Darrel just pulled me closer to his side as I continued to try and get all my bearings. "Chill, Otter. This is the girl I was tellin' you about."_

_ I saw recognition and amazement cross this Otter guy's features. He eyed my entire body and then smiled. "Got it. You done for the night then, man?"_

_ "Yeah, but she's agreed to wait, so I'm 'a find Tony and the guys. Hit them up," Darrel told him. Their words were exchanged quickly and before I knew what was happening, I was being led back out into the vibrating and loud bar area._

_ Darrel walked so fast, I can't tell you the amount of people we'd passed. It was as if suddenly, we'd arrived at our destination and I found myself staring into the face of multiple men while I leaned against Darrel for support. "This the girl?" someone asked._

_ "Yeah," Darrel's tone caused me to snap my eyes up to him just in time to see that sickly smile appear. "This is her. You guys still in?"_

_ "In?" I muttered, not comprehending. "What are they in for? I thought we were going to go back to your house?" I could feel the eyes around me never leave my body as they sparkled with mischief._

_ "We are going back to my house – all of us," Darrel used his hand that held a cup that he'd gotten from God knows where to indicate to those around us._

_ I looked at him, confused. When I say '_we_', I meant him and me, not everyone and their grandma. "But I don't understand. I thought we were going to, you know," I dropped my voice on the last two words. Sure, I'd made out with guys, but I'd never done _that_ with them. I mean, I hardly even noticed a guy. There were really only three consistent guy figures in my life, and _that _definitely didn't happen. Gross. Still, I may not be familiar with the procedure, but I'm pretty sure that only two people were involved, well sometimes three… or four, but not more than that… usually. This is 2003, not the '60's. We have less orgies._

_ There was a chuckle from deep within his chest filling the air now. "We _are_ going to, you know," the way he said the words made me pull back with disgust. I can handle teasing, but the way he had said it made me feel uneasy. "That's why they're coming. Get it?"_

_ I froze in his hold. All of us? I felt my heart beating fast and swore he could probably see it through my tank. I stepped back a single step, trying not to show him my fear. No, I didn't fully register his information, but the look on his face and the way his friends had been undressing me with their eyes told me to run. "Uh, you know… Maybe you're right, I shouldn't leave Dean like my dad and Sam did," I sort of half laughed as suddenly the lights all flipped on and the music cut off. I swallowed hard. "I think I'm just gonna go back to the motel," I suggested before attempting to turn around and leave._

_ Two guys stepped up and blocked my path and I felt a large hand grip my upper arm and with a hand pull, my back was suddenly pressed against his chest. The calluses on his fingers were so rough as his hand skimmed along the soft skin of my stomach, as they ran underneath the thin fabric of my tank. I tried to push his hand away while his other arm snaked around me and pulled us closer together – if that was possible._

_ Cackles of laughter came from his group of friends around us and his tongue traced lightly as it trailed from my jaw bone up my cheek and ended right below my ear. Scratching at his arm seemed to be useless, just like my effort of trying to drop out of his hold and become a puddle on the ground at our feet._

_ "Let me go, I don't want to do this anymore," I begged with a slurred voice that held all the shakes I was trying to hold inside while my grip just tightened around me._

_ A soft, sadistic laughed played in my ear and the fingers under my shirt began to move down until one hooked itself between the waist of my denim jeans and my hip bone. Then there was another finger, and then another. Pulling away was the only thing I could think to do, but his hands moved with my body's movements._

_ "Oh, you're gonna do it. First you're gonna do it with me, then you're gonna do it with Travis, then Otter, and you're just gonna go down the line until you have done it with every single one of them, all the way until you make it back to me. Just like the little whore you are," his words hung in my ear as I moved my eyes around the circle of guys surrounding us. His hand was slowly making its way deeper into my pants and my hands were trying harder to pull him off of me._

_ I was beginning to panic. All I could think of to do was stab him with silver, shoot him with silver, chop off his head, throw holy water on him; but none of that would work with this monster. All my combat training was absent from my thoughts. That and my being not completely clear headed was not helping. This wasn't just some fight with my brothers like when we practiced until I felt his foot shift and tap against mine, my heavy pants caught in my throat. Lifting my foot, ready to bring it down on top of his as hard as I could, I heard someone's voice cut in and say, "Yo, watch her leg." My body was brought into the air, and left to hover there. Swinging my head forward, I tried to fling it back, only to stumble when my whole body spun and I was slammed into the chest of another guy._

_ My arms were pinned down, the fingers pinching my skin between them, and then Darrel was in my face, my chin in his grip as he squeezed. His eyes were like fire – and not the good kind, I've never seen that anger before, or that sneer. I instantly lost any hope of getting out of this. His sneer turned into a wicked smile, and my eyes were beginning to water not only from the vice grip he had on my face, but also because now I felt like I couldn't get loose. Not with him in front of me, and this guy behind me, pinning my arms back and making it impossible for me to move. "Hey, go clear the bar. We'll do this here," he ordered to someone on his left before he faced me again. "Don't worry, baby, I'll make sure to last extra long."_

_ "No, please, I'm sorry. I, I can pay you, just let me go. I don't want to do this," I cried as his opposite hand slowly traced the back of their knuckles down my cheek._

_ His lips parted and I could see his white teeth gleaming towards me. "Look at you, of course you want this. With those tight, low rise jeans that look almost painted on. Mmm, and that thin black tank that dips down low to show those big supple breasts. You're practically asking for it." His fingers that had been on my cheek were now running over my chest and I felt goose bumps and waves of terror roll through me as the guy holding me back pulled on my arms – shoving my chest forward against my will. Darrel's lips were suddenly smacking against mine and I could taste the alcohol he'd been drinking as he deepened the kiss. I tried to pull my head back, but it wasn't working. I couldn't break free._

_ His lips disappeared and so did his grasp on my face. I was panting, crying, and choking against the spit his tongue left when I saw him turn and heard a loud crack before he flew back into me and then fell to the ground in a heap. The man holding onto me stumbled back into a wall, still keeping me in his grasp, and I looked up to see the back of a leather jacket and an elbow that was rapidly moving up and down in the air as a fist continued to connect with Darrel's face. The leathered body sprang off Darrel's now bloody and limp mess, and there was a click as the lights of the bar reflected off of the silver barrel of the gun. There were shoves and yells as feet pounded against the hard floor of the bar, leaving probably no more than a total of five left standing there._

_ "Anybody else wanna make this last extra long, 'cause I gotta tell ya, I have plenty of rage to go around," I heard a gruff voice bark out loud enough that it filled the entire place and I felt myself shake and avoid eyes that weren't even directed at me._

_ "Hey, man, this doesn't concern you, just drop the gun and we can work past this. Hell, we can even let you get a go at her. You wanna go first?" I felt the chest of the man rumble as he spoke behind me._

_ The barrel of the gun was suddenly pointing in my direction and there were eyes ablaze with hate right behind that. A smile didn't show up as his head tipped lightly and the sarcastic happy scoff came from deep within his throat. "Oh, I'm gonna be the one to go first, now let her go," he ordered. No one moved, but I felt the fingers around my arms loosen and re-grip to continue to pinch my skin. "You've got to the count of one before I pull this trigger and send this bullet straight into that sick and twisted mind, you son of a bitch."_

_ It was like my body was suddenly more important than before. People were shifting around us, not sure whether or not to move and I could feel their eyes boring into my skin as they stared, trying to figure out what to do next. "You'll hit her before you even get close to me," the voice behind me said with certainty as I felt my body suddenly and slowly moving as though it was being centered in front of the gun._

_ Dean closed the difference between us in two large steps and his gun was tipping my head to the side as its barrel dug into the face of the man behind me. "Even if I stood fifty yards back, this bullet is still going to enter your fugly-ass face in this same God damn spot."_

_ "You're bluffing," my human vice chanced._

_ "Try me." It was like the minutes slowly ticked by and turned into hours before I was finally pushed forward and into Dean's chest where he didn't even flinch. His gun was still raised and pressed against the cheek of the guy. "Becca, get in the car," he ordered. I shoved past the blockade of guys, slipping on spilled beer and bumping into tables as my tears blurred my vision. Speeding my way to the door as fast as I could, I flew down the steps and to the car that sat in the far said of the parking lot, just on the outside of the circle of light from the street lamp…_

Now I was sobbing. I felt so embarrassed, and almost naked. Like I had shed this huge weight, but it left me bare and wounded instead of relieved. I felt like a little kid. Neither Sam nor Dean had interrupted my story, and form the few times I looked up to see their faces, they looked more broken than I felt. Their expressions only caused me to further crumble. I was still frozen to the spot where Sam had let go of me. I knew that they both pitied me – and I didn't want that. Not after I'd realized that it was all because of me. My inability to dial the correct number, the anger, rage, and hate I felt for my family. The bitterness I allowed to take over. The trust I put in a stranger. The secrets I spilled. The consideration of abandoning Dean. The naivety I allowed to take over as Darrel seduced me. The fear I felt when he touched me and offered me to his friends. The _stupidity_ of myself during all of it.

Tears dripped and shaky breaths left my body while I glared at the floor. Minutes ticked on and nobody said anything and I knew that was because it was all still registering in their minds. I glanced up and saw tears slowly tipping over Sam's rims from where he sat in the chair he'd collapsed into half way through my story. Dean had pretty much turned to stone, with his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched so tightly that I'd thought it would probably break. He had wet rims too. The site of them caused a firm squeeze on my heart and my stomach turned to knots. I couldn't see them like this. "I-I… I need a minute," I choked out, turning and quickly speeding into the bathroom.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-one.**

**Announcement:  
- I have exactly 11 or 12 days left of school. That means I have: 2 presentations, 4 major papers, 1 exam, 3 worksheets, 3 minor papers, and 135u74q2857-16704760214670 readings left to do. This might be the last update until next week, or later. I wanted to get this part out to you because it is the wrap up, and then you aren't all just hanging with the last freak out on Becca's end.  
- I haven't even started the next episode chapters, or looked at it. And because I need to focus on school, I'm not actually concerned about not doing so yet. I hope you don't all get angry because I just said that. Seriously though, the updates might take a while from here on out.**

**About this chapter:  
- This is the end of the Post-****_Asylum_**** additions I have come up with. I hope you guys have all enjoyed it immensely, as I have worked on it really hard for months on end. This chapter right here though might have been the hardest. It's all I could think about since I started it, and it's really cut into my homework and school time. A lot.  
- This is also all original writing, so if things don't flow as well as you'd hoped, I didn't have a script to follow along with - so I have really done my best here. Please take that into consideration. However, I still don't consider it fully complete or even near perfect.  
- At the end of the ****_Asylum _****episode, Sam and Dean receive the phone call from John. That is NOT in this chapter, it will however be in the next chapter at the beginning of the ****_Scarecrow _****episode. I hope that is okay.  
- There is a method to my madness and I promise that things will come to surface, and that things will be addressed; they just may not be in this chapter. Apologies. Do not throw stones.  
- There are chunks of flashbacks in this chapter. They all tie together, and are continuing from when Dean ordered Becca out to the car. I swear it all makes sense.**

**Thanks:  
- To the readers, first and for most. You guys make this all worth while. The only reason I continue to try and pump out these chapters is so you have more to read.  
- To the reviewers. You guys are just amazing. The fact that you take time to actually comment on what I've written just warms my heart. I love your feedback, and you've all been great. I owe you.  
- To the followers/favoriters. Oh wow. You guys are so cool! To know that you like the story enough to have it on your alerts!? Seriously, you guys are just, I don't even know how to say it.  
- Jenmm31. You, my dear, have helped me out so much, I don't even think there's enough paper to write down the amount of times. I owe you immensely, and I wish I could do more than just send you this shout out. You're amazing, and I can't believe you actually take the time to help me figure it all out.**

**Make sure to click on Jenmm31's story in my favorite tabs! She is a great writer, and I am sure you will enjoy her sis-fic/pre-series stuff!**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

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_"I-I… I need a minute."_

Slamming the door shut, I leaned against it and slowly slid down to the floor, covering my mouth with my hand, choking back sobs. Bringing my knees to my chest, I then buried my face in my hands – allowing my cries to emit from my throat to my palms. I wanted to be quiet, I really did. After seeing their faces, the last thing I wanted was for them to hear my sobs echo off of the porcelain fixtures and tiled walls. They'd only be in more pain, and I didn't want to be the cause of that. I couldn't do that to them. But, I couldn't be quiet either. My body shook with the racking cries, and they came out harder and harder with each cough that ended up passing my lips. I was going to make myself sick, and that would only make things worse. As it was, I could hear their argument on the other side of the door, and it was tearing at my heart.

"How could you let something like that happen to her?" I heard Sam ask Dean. I am sure that it was meant to be somewhat quiet, as there was a pulled back strain on his tone. He was angry, and trying not to punch something.

I whispered out a "No, Sam" in the silence that lingered before Dean answered our brother with a hard tone. He was not right to try and put that blame on Dean – it was _my_ fault. "_Let _that happen to her? I didn't _let_ it happen to her, Sam. She told you I stepped in and stopped them."

"But, they shouldn't have gotten that far. Why weren't you paying attention?"

"I didn't even know she was there! It's not like she walked in and tapped me on the shoulder, letting me know. You heard her, she went there _alone_, and the place was _packed –_"

Sam cut Dean off before he could continue down whatever path he was on. "You should have seen her, though. We were _raised_ to see her, to watch out for her and keep her safe. Letting that-that-THAT happen is not keeping her safe, Dean."

"And you think I don't know that?"

There was a deep sigh, and then I heard footsteps pacing back and forth along the carpet. "Why didn't you tell me?" Sam's voice was quiet as the pacing stopped, and he sounded like he was right by the bathroom door, causing my eyes to widen. I didn't want them to know I was listening to their conversation, but, I was frozen to my spot.

The pacing started up again as Dean's rough voice came out in a tone that said he'd been stressing about this and was finally able to get it out. "You weren't exactly _around_, man. And it's not like you were picking up calls. Besides, I told her I wouldn't tell you."

Sam's voice was bitter and thick as he shoved a hard laugh from his chest. "You told her you wouldn't tell me," he muttered. "You should have told me, Dean, I had the right to know. This isn't something you just keep quiet about. You keep calling until I answer, or you leave a message. I would have made sure to have been back here if I knew. I wouldn't have said – I never thought – damn it!" Sam yelled suddenly, causing my body to tense. There was a short silence before Sam spoke, clearly trying to hold back his anger. "How'd you find out what was happening at the bar?"

"It was towards the end of the night, I guess. I was sitting with these couple 'a girls, and the one's friend kept comin' over – half drunk the whole time I was there. He'd mentioned something about "_Darrel finally found a girl, and it's gonna happen tonight"_ to the bartender, pointing to the other one at the opposite end of the bar. I brushed it off thinkin' that it was some guy's first time or something. The way they were goin' on about it, it was pathetic. Then one of the girls told her drunk friend that she didn't wanna hear about any of Darrel's plans. When I asked her what she meant, she told me the guy was a total "_skeez_" and "_complete jackass_"; said she hadn't liked or trusted him from the moment she'd met him. She didn't really know what the plan was, but she said she felt bad for whatever girl Darrel had managed to trick." There was a deep exhale before Dean continued. "Next thing I know, the lights are on, and I'm trying to pay the tab. People are filing out of the joint faster than I can understand why, and then there's this guy in my face, telling me that I need to leave, now. He's gettin' in my face, has this attitude, and I'm just about ready to lay into him when I hear this girl crying. The place had turned into a ghost town – minus this group of guys off in the corner, circling someone in. Then I saw her, Sammy. She was pinned against the guy's chest, with that jackass touching her like that, and I lost it when he forced her into that kiss."

My breathing was heavy as I closed my eyes and allowed silent tears to pass down my cheeks. I guess I never thought about the fact that Dean would have seen what had happened. It made me sick to my stomach to know he played witness to it. I can't even tell you how it made me feel emotionally to know that he _saw_, he _saw_ what happened. I don't think I could handle seeing that happen to anyone, and then he saw it happen to me? No wonder the guy was so angry and everything had been so awkward that night. It also explained why he made sure that he "_always had my back_". I felt worse, like I just put some extra scarring into that already scarred memory. This whole night was just getting worse and worse because of _that _night.

"How was she…when, after, after it all?" Sam anxiously asked.

"She was terrified. I've never seen that fear in her eyes before."

"Can you blame her?"

The pacing was back and then stopped as I heard the scratch of fabric against the wall as one of them leaned against it outside of the door. "No, but, that's not it, man. She had that fear when looking at _me_. Like, she couldn't trust me. I had to yell at her to get her to snap out 'a it," Dean admitted.

_Groping the side of the Impala, I fought past the blur that had become my vision while I searched for the handle. A hand on my upper arm caused me to jump and cringe as I spun around and pressed my back against the car door. "No, please!" I cried, holding up my hands and pushing against the person in front of me. My eyes were blurred and all I could see was see the shadow of a face outside of the lamp light. I couldn't recognize the face, but, at the way they continued to fight my strength, I was certain it was Darrel._

_ "Becca, stop," I heard Dean tell me from where I was doing my best to keep him at a distance. But, I didn't stop. I couldn't seem to _make_ myself stop. It was instinct, to fight, to try and protect myself. Instinct that hadn't kicked in and had a chance of succeeding until right now. I kept pushing, not liking that there was a hand fighting to get a hold of me. All I could tell myself was I needed to get away, and flee. I needed to find a way to get into the Impala, so that I could have some sort of metal protective barrier around me. "Enough, Becca. Listen to me!" Dean ordered harshly as he wrapped a hand around each of my wrists and held them in the air at my sides. I heard Dean's voice, but I wasn't sure it was him although, part of me knew deep down that it was. Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I just _wanted _it to be Dean because I _needed_ it to be Dean. It was Darrel, even with the face covered in darkness, I was sure it was Darrel. He'd come back, and now there was no big brother to stop him._

_ There was a shake of my body and another yell of my name through a snarl before I finally stopped fighting his control and allowed him to keep my arms at bay. "P-please," I sobbed as the body stepped forward, finally coming into the light as he continued to grip my arms. "I-I-I-Dean!" I cried as his eyes were searching my face and his hands loosened their grip. My body lost all its tension and I felt myself beginning to fold and curl up, but before I could, Dean caught me. Finally able to accept that it was him, I felt safer – like I could fall apart now, because he was there – something I don't think I'd ever done before. I buried my head into his chest, just needing the comfort, while his hands went in the air – not knowing how to react; and my hands clung around his torso, grabbing handfuls of his jacket. If there had been another person in that parking lot, I'm sure we would have been causing a huge scene that Dean otherwise would have immediately ended; but right now neither of us cared. I was too busy crying as my brother's arms finally, and slowly, made their way around me. It was like he gained confidence through, because his light hold became a tight clutch, and he squeezed me to him._

Sam listened to Dean's version of the memory quietly, while I had my own in my mind, not interrupting. He'd heard so much tonight and I honestly just wanted to rewind it like that movie. I wanted to start it all over, and just not let any of it out. It would be easier that way. I could just work past this thing with Sam, go to Dean, have him fix it. Dean could have fixed it.

"Does Dad know?"

"Yeah…he knows."

"So what do we do now?" Sam breathed.

My legs had slid from my chest, down to the floor, stretched out in front of me. I had been staring at the corner of the floor where the wall met the side of the tub. It was dirty. There was black, and brown, and disgusting everything that just stuck to the caulk in the center point of it all. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it, and I also wished it had been cleaner. "I don't know," Dean's words broke my thoughts. "I think we ought 'a let her calm down before we do anything. She's just gonna flip if we go chargin' in there and corner her. I'll go in once I know you're okay out here."

The scratch of a chair across the motel room floor sounded. "Whether or not I'm okay is not the issue. We don't have to corner her, but we should go in there. We have to know how she's feeling. We can't just let her sit in there alone."

"It's not like we're locking her in there or something," Dean pressed. "Besides, I don't really see her wanting you to be the one that goes in trying to save the day or something. Just let me handle it."

"What? Look, you don't know what you're talking about, whatever issue she or you had with me before can wait. She's my sister, too, and I'm going to go in there and make sure that she's okay," Sam barked. There was a chair scraping on the floor again, and then I heard heavy footsteps start towards the door, and then stop abruptly. I began to look around me for anything to hide in or behind.

"Sam, I'm warnin' you. Leave her alone," Dean snapped out the order. I felt my chest constrict.

"Dean, she needs to talk to somebody!" Sam protested. His voice caused guilt to immediately take over. I knew that Sam wanted to come in by me, talk to me, hug me, cry – everything that was completely a Sam instinct. But… I couldn't. Not yet. I couldn't face him. Not after telling him that. Call me crazy, but having his arms wrapped around me right now sounded a lot less inviting than it may have four years ago.

There were heavy footsteps as one of them moved around the room once again, except they seemed forced – as though one of them was moving the other back. "I'm tellin' you, man. You goin' in there isn't a good idea," Dean warned.

Breathing heavily, I unknowingly nodded in agreement. Sam and I wouldn't know how to handle each other if he came in here right now. I felt ashamed having told him this secret, and I knew that with him being the kind of person he was, he hated himself for naively having added to it like that. It was at that moment I think I really realized just how much we drifted. I knew we drifted, but it was there, in that bathroom, crying on the floor that I came to notice that I didn't know how to interact with him while I was full of pain and anger like this. That feeling caused my breath to catch in my throat. Sam and I had really become separate people, and we didn't even know how to relate anymore – and that was always something I'd thought I'd be able to rely on. I didn't have a twin any longer. Well, like, I had him, but it was like he was just there, he wasn't _my_ twin, you know?

Biting my lip, I waited for Sam's rebuttal. "But, I need to talk to her," I heard Sam tell Dean with a strangled voice. I clutched at the shirt resting against my chest. "I need to apologize, Dean. I didn't – I didn't know. I can't have her thinking that… That I don't care."

"Sam, you need to understand that if you –" Dean started, and I know he was trying to be patient with him, but, Dean's not a patient person. The gruffness in his voice told me he was on the verge of snapping, and with everything that had just happened - I didn't see him really holding back anything that was on his mind right now.

"I know how to handle Becca, Dean, or did you forget that?" Sam bit quickly, cutting Dean off. Sam was losing just as much patience as Dean was, and the strain was evident. I was doing this to him, to both of them. I was driving them apart, and nothing I had said was making anything better. I didn't tell Sam what happened to have _this_ happen. I did it because I couldn't keep it in any more. I was losing any grip I had on security at the moment. If my brothers couldn't even talk to each other, how could either of them talk to me?

One of them breathed loudly and deeply before Dean tried his hand at it once more, his voice coming out through his teeth. "Look… Just, trust me. Let it –"

"I know what I'm doing! I have always been the one to be there for her, remember?! I'm the one that she came running to whenever something was wrong. I was her best friend. I was the one she trusted. I was the one who comforted her when she couldn't handle being around _you_. It was _me_, Dean, _me_! Not you! It's always been me and Becca –"

"Oh yeah!?" Dean had hit his limit, and his voice was at a terrifying volume as I jumped against the door. "Were you there for her when all of that crap happened?! Have you been there _since_?! No, Sam, you haven't! I have! I have been the one helping her through this. I've been the one who has helped bring her back from every low she's hit. I helped build that broken girl in there, back up and told her it was okay to be strong. Do you know what it's been like, man? Do you know how much of a struggle it was for me to get her past all of that, to get her to where she is now?" There was a humorless laugh that cut through the air. "But hey, man, you knew all that, because you're _you_. I mean, what _did_ you do to help her? You ignored her every time she needed you and I think that shows a pretty clear end to you being there for her!"

Their thick silence seeped under the door and filled the room around me. All of their fighting was because of that stupid night. I was tearing us all apart and making everything worse. I shouldn't have told the story. I should have just left everything alone and not let the anger I'd felt get to me. I should have pushed it back, tried to work it out in some stupid healthy way like freaking Doctor Ellicott instructed. My world around me seemed to be breaking apart and splitting. I didn't know what to do. It was only a few seconds later that the door's handle above my head jiggled and I felt terror pass through me. In a flash I was away from the door and curled up in the bathtub, the curtain pulled closed around it.

The door didn't open though, instead there was a slam against it, and I heard Dean yell, "I swear to God, Sam, if you don't stay out of that room, we're gonna have a whole different issue on our hands. Let. Me. Handle it."

"Dean, I have to _try_ and talk to her!" Sam fought, and his voice was scathing, but I could hear the breaks in between the words, and it was like his chokes were my own. Tears continued to flood my cheeks and I just pulled my legs tighter to my chest.

Whatever words were next to be exchanged between them, they made sure to keep quiet. It was scary quiet, and then my entire body leapt off the floor of the tub and into the air when a loud slam sounded, and the bathroom door shook in its frame. I felt alone. Not abandoned, but alone. I'd driven them away, and I couldn't help but to feel like the worst person in the world. My sobs echoed off the tub and curtain around me, drowning out any other sound I could possible even pretend to want to hear. There was a sharp rap on the curtain, causing my breath to stop, and my heart to pound. I didn't move to answer the, what was supposed to be knock, but instead just tried to steady my breathing around the rapid inhales and hiccups. A gruff sigh came from the other side of the curtain and I saw it tug while someone sat down on the side of the tub. The shadow cast through the curtain told me that they were holding their head in their hands, and that they were frustrated. I continued to try and steady my breaths, and I couldn't take it any longer.

"D-D-Dea-n-n-n," I choked out, feeling my chest start to tighten. The head shot up as I pulled the curtain back and I saw Dean looking at me with concern and wide eyes. I didn't know what to do, how to move, where to go, anything. Dean's arms wrapped around me and pulled me up, so we were both standing, and clutched me to him, allowing me to break down uncontrollably. "I'm-m-m s-orr-rry-y-y, D-Dean. I didn't m-mean for Sam to l-le-leave again-ain." I sobbed as I let my tears soak his shirt. A comforting hand was cupping the side of my head as his other arm pinned me to him tightly. I felt so bad. Dean wasn't a comforter, and this was out of his comfort zone, and I was just not even letting anything go right, right now!

Dean continued to hold me to him as I continued to break down against him. "Sam didn't leave because of you, Becca," he tried to assure me as his fingers lightly moved back and forth in my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. It was definitely helping the pounding that had taken over in my head since this whole mess started. "He left because I made him leave."

"Is he gonna come-come ba-ack?"

There was a rise in his chest as he breathed deeply. "Yeah, he'll be back," Dean finally sighed out. I didn't know if he was happy about this or not, though. I didn't want Sam to run away because of my story. Who knew what that would do to us. He had to come back. Dean's voice didn't hint to uncertainty, though, it signaled he was tired. Really tired. Exhausted probably.

"I'm sor-rry, Dean. This is all my f-f-ault!" I tried to be angry with myself as I pushed through the tears, but it just came out as harder broken breaths. "I was so stupid. I should-shouldn't have told all that to Dar-Darrel. I can-n't believe I did, did, did that! I wrecked ev-ev-everything. I'm sorry you had to do-do-do that to Dar-Darrel. And now S-S-Sam doesn't understand why-y-y I can't be arou-around him ri-righ-right now eith-either. I'm the worst person-n-n in the worl-wor-world!" I pounded my fist against his chest for emphasis. "Ugh, I de-de-_deserved_ what hap-hap-pend!" I cried harder, and then felt Dean go rigid beside me.

His arms moved from being around me, to my arms before they slid up and he was moving my head so that I was looking at him while tears continued to well up and fall over the edge of my eyes. Once he was satisfied with my gaze, he dropped one hand to my shoulder while the other one held a pointed finger directly in front of me. "Don't you _ever_ say that, Becca. What that guy did to you was _not_ your fault. Do you understand me?" I didn't answer him; just sniffing in response. His eyes went hard and his brow furrowed with the direct look of disappointment when he saw I didn't believe him. "Listen to me. You not calling Sam was an _accident_. You didn't know, Becca. Nothing can change that, all right? What happened to you in that bar never should have happened. He took advantage of you, and he had _no_ right to do that." I couldn't bring my eyes to meet his as he growled the words with venom. I felt so guilty. I know what he was saying, and part of me wanted to believe him, but I couldn't. I felt physically sick from it all. "Hey, come here," Dean's voice went from being angry and upset to being a little lighter. He pulled me to him once again, and my cries started to die down. "Don't blame yourself," he told me. "If anyone is to blame, it's me, okay? Blame me."

I pulled away from him this time. "Why-why would I blame you?" I asked him in disbelief.

Dean looked like he was at some sort of internal war with himself. "I let you down that night, Becs. I'm sorry."

Shock ran through me. I was taken aback by the fact that first of all, Dean apologized to me, and it seemed to almost fly from his mouth with no hesitation. I'd never witnessed him finding it so easy to tell someone he was wrong before. But, the fact he blamed himself and said he let me down blew his apology out of the water. "No," I shook my head at him. "You, you didn't let me do-wn," I worked past the last few sobs in my chest. "Dean, you, you, you, you _saved_ me that nigh-t-t. If you hadn't been there, I don't know that I would have gotten a-away." I shivered involuntarily. "I owe you because of what you did-did for me then."

"But, I could have answered that phone call," he replied, looking at me with some pain in his eyes.

"You weren't even supposed to _get_ the phone call," I whispered while staring at the edge of my cast.

There was a large breath of air as Dean ran his hand through his hair and then down over his face. I knew he wanted to say something, but I was just afraid of what he was going to say. "You know… you never told me the whole story," he said with a sarcastic scoff-laugh thing.

"Wha-what?" I stuttered looking at him, shocked yet again.

"Rebecca… why wouldn't you tell me about the fight you had with Dad? Or that you thought you were some kind of burden to me? Or that you thought I never cared? I've always cared, okay? And you're not just some burden."

My heart broke when he used my whole first name. One word, and I knew that this was bothering him probably a million times more than it was me, and that killed me a little inside. I searched his face as he turned to look at me and clenched his jaw like he wanted to tell me to speak to him, but was holding back. I couldn't even tell you the emotion or expression he had. It was like a bunch of them were all fighting to show. "Dean, I –" I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Dean, we weren't close when all that happened, remember? You and I fought then like Sam and I do now… well, not to that extreme, but we argued enough. You always looked frustrated by me, and I just… I don't know. I felt alone, all the time. I didn't really think that running to you was an option then. I thought you'd just yell at me and wouldn't listen."

Dean listened carefully and then relaxed his jaw a bit before biting out the words tiredly. "You came to me when you were younger."

"Yeah, but Dean, Sam was there, too. It was different when I was little. I came to you about stuff, but with like some complaint or critique about some crap movie or song or something. Sam was the one I went to… He was the one who let me scream and cry and took it all in like some sort of, of _sponge_ or something… he _listened_ when I talked. You were just… I just… Face it, Dean. You and I didn't get this close until that stupid night. I was closer with Sam, and he was my best friend." I watched him as I let all of it sink in. He looked hurt, and I couldn't see how he could show any more pain after I'd already shoved so much on him. "You and Sam always had that bond, though. You guys were close, and I envied that. I wanted what you guys had, and now… Now we have that, you know? Dean, you're like some pillar or something for me. You're my rock, and I've learned I can count on you. I can't believe I ever doubted that – I shouldn't have. I ought to have known better. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Dean," I admitted while the last words came out in a whisper as my final tears dripped down and dried on my cheeks. My voice was stuffed and I was sniffing, but I wasn't crying anymore.

I hung my head and stared at my hands while playing with a fiberglass strand that was hanging off of my cast. I felt ashamed. It's like I was just letting everyone around me down and that I was digging myself a bigger and deeper hole. The only part of the story that Dean had ever known was what he saw happen right before he attacked Darrel. And I only knew that because I heard him tell Dad after we'd gotten back to the motel. Weirdly enough, that explanation ended up the same way this one did. Me in the bathroom, crying. Dean waiting me out while quietly stewing in anger and thoughts. Except that time it had been my dad who had motel doors slamming behind him_._

_It wasn't because I wanted to leave and run away from the bar that we had. It was because Dean physically had to put me in the front seat of the Impala that I was now sitting here – staring at the white line through the windshield. I wasn't blinking, or talking – just staring. It was silent. The radio wasn't playing, and I felt awkward as Dean's only distraction from the road was me. He kept watching me, but he didn't press the matter. It was a short ride to the motel, and we both gazed in wonder and shock when we saw my father's truck in the spot he'd pulled out of earlier. My eyes shot to the second floor of the motel, and to our room, and I could see the glow of a light behind the closed curtains. He was up. The engine on the Impala died and Dean slowly removed the keys and slipped them into his pocket. We continued to both sit there until he broke the silence. "Come on," he said simply._

_ I slowly crawled out of the car after him, feeling completely numb. We made our way up the stairs and to our room, and I waited for Dean to unlock the door. My arms were wrapped tightly around my torso as Dean signaled for me to walk in ahead of him. Whatever my father had been doing before, he stopped, and was instantly on his feet, standing right in front of me – a hard look on his face as he looked down at my bent head._

_ "I don't know who you think you are, young lady, but the next time you even _think_ about telling me that you ha –" my father was yelling, and I couldn't really blame him as tears welled up in my eyes. The last thing I'd told him was "I hate you". If roles were reversed, I'd have been pissed, too. But, as he yelled, all I wanted was for that to be the only thing running through my mind._

_ "Dad," Dean cut him off with a quiet but forceful voice. I stood there, trembling and felt a hand guide me farther into the room. "We need to talk to you."_

_ Panic rose in me. I didn't want to talk about what had just happened. I wanted to shove it down into the farthest parts of anywhere in the universe. "What?" my father barked out. It was the same tone he used when he wanted answers to a case or when he thought he had relevant news or something. An expectant bark. I didn't open my mouth to answer him, though. And he didn't like that, causing a sick feeling to take over when he said, "What happened?"_

_ My mouth fell open and warm tears were passing down my cheeks again. How could I tell him? I didn't even fully understand myself. "I-I just, I thought –" I choked. "He said, us, just us!" I bawled as I threw myself into my father's stance and clung to him, crying like I did when I was five years old. His hands were soothing as they slowly rubbed my back and Dean told him all that he knew._

_ By the end of Dean's story my father was completely tense and holding me to him as though both of our lives depended on it – and I think mine did. "And you didn't know she was there beforehand?" he asked Dean after everything had been told._

_ "No, sir."_

_ "And you stopped it as soon as it happened?"_

_ "Yes, sir."_

_ I was being moved back and my head was being tipped and turned as my father held my chin and inspected my face. "Becca, you listen to me," he ordered, catching my eyes. "I want you to go in the bathroom and take a long shower, okay? I need you to relax. Dean will be here when you get out." I nodded meekly in response and wiped the base of my palm against my eye. "Good. Now hurry up, because I need to talk to your brother."_

I never knew what Dean and my dad talked about while I was in the shower – and to this day, I never asked. I didn't want to know. Not then, not now. I remember hearing muffled yells and made sure to stick my head directly below the downpour of water, to block out their voices. There was a door slam then, too, and it made me jump just as high. I'd done what my father asked, though. I took a long shower; washing everything three times, using all the hot water, crying, using substantial amounts of cold water – all of it.

Dean had gone to watching my hands fiddling with my cast while sticking his hands in his pockets. "Sam's real sorry, Bec," he told me quietly after we both thought back to and relived the night.

I nodded my head and bit my lip. I figured Sam would be, and everything I'd heard them say before confirmed it. He has that emotional conscious – and tonight I think my own emotions were worse. But I knew Sam would find some way to beat himself up over it, and that wasn't fair. It was still reeling in my mind that it had been all my fault. I took a sharp intake of breath, causing myself to shudder.

"I just… I still feel so bad, Dean. I still feel like this is all my fault. And now, Sam… Sam is going to have this guilty conscious, and everything is going to be all weird. He's going to want to talk about it, like, immediately. I don't know that I can do that right now… I'm so afraid to look up and see the guilt in his eyes, you know? I almost wish I hadn't even told you guys. I mean, everything is going to change now. You guys probably feel ashamed to be around me, and I just… Dean, what am I going to do?"

Nodding his head in a contemplative manor, he rubbed his fingers up and down on his chin, and then met my glance once more. "No one is ashamed to be around you. We're just… We needed to know, Becs. We can't help you move past this if you hold it all in."

"But _how_ do I move past it? It's been there since it happened, and it's like it haunts me."

"Do you remember what I told you that night?" he questioned, watching as I nodded.

_I dressed slowly, shoving back tears the whole time, and quietly opened the door. I figured, or hoped, that Dean would be sleeping. "Becca?" he called out, causing my frown to deepen. I pushed farther into the room, though, and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed._

_ "I, uh, I used all of the hot water. Sorry," I announced quietly._

_ "Oh, okay," he responded just as unsure of what to say._

_ I stood there, staring at his feet, and chewing on my cheek. The silence was awkward, like back in the car, and I wanted to just curl up on my couch and die. "Um… I, I think I'm just going to go to bed," I practically whispered._

_ Dean stood up, blocking my path. "Right," he muttered. "Uh, but before, before you do… I just wanted, are you, are you okay?" I pursed my lips and nodded my head – lying to both of us. He puffed out a breath of air and ran his hand over his head. "Bec," his voice seemed to crack, causing me to look up at him. He cleared his throat, trying to appear strong. "Rebecca, I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I'm going to make sure that doesn't, that _nothing_ like that, ever happens to you again, okay? I promise." My heart swelled with pain and sudden appreciation for him and I just nodded my head again. "But you're gonna be okay – 'cause we're strong, _you're_ strong. No matter what shit life throws at you, from here on out, you're gonna make it through it with me by your side. From now on, I've got your back. You're gonna come back from this, and show them all. And I'm gonna help you, okay? I'm your brother, Becca, and I'm gonna protect you. I give you my word, I'm gonna do everything to make sure you don't get hurt again."_

"You said that you'd be there to protect and help me," I replied with a sigh.

"Well, I'm still sayin' it, Becs. I'm always gonna protect you, and I'm still gonna help you; but Sam wants to help you now, too… and I think you should let him."

I stared into the eyes of my big brother and I felt complete admiration. I chuckled slightly to myself, because he almost sounded like Sam, which was weird, but also greatly soothing. I don't know _when_ Dean got to be like this, but I don't know how either of us survived with one another before it happened. Doctor Ellicott may have been right about all my issues, but I was certain he was wrong on my feelings for Dean. He said I gave Dean a hero-complex; expecting him to be there for me, protect me, guard me, everything I ever needed – Dean would be there. But that wasn't even it. Not at all. I didn't just make up this complex or anything from out of left field. I knew I was right to feel that way about him. Dean deserved to be called a hero; he _was_, _is_ a hero. He's from this moment on, _my_ hero. There were a few fresh tears in my eyes, but they were good tears this time – I promise. I loved my big brother. A lot. And I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to know that he was better than Batman, a lot better than Batman. Wrapping my arms around him, I hugged him to me tightly. I owed Dean my life. "Thanks, Dean," I muttered into his chest.

He hugged me back with no hesitation – just like he had since that night. "You're welcome," he replied. The hug lasted quietly for about a minute until I squeezed him tighter and chuckled against his chest when he told me, "If you get snot on my shirt, or tell Sam about this chick flick crap – you will be riding in the trunk, and doing my laundry until I'm 80."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-two.**

**"Guess who's back, (back, back)  
Back again (gain, gain)  
ispiltthemilk is back (back, back)  
Tell a friend (friend, friend)..."**

**No, but in all seriousness, I am indeed back! That's right my little lovelies! I finished up my horrifying semester and I have been celebrating this past weekend (which was awesome). But now, I am able to write! Cheers? I think we need lots of them. Cheer your hearts out!**

**Now. I ask that you all please make sure to go and check out my 'Bio' section on my 'Profile' page because I will be updating that immediately after posting this. I have quite a bit to say, and it may turn into a rant, and I don't want to take up TOO much of your precious time.**

**So onto important matters.  
For those of you who have seen the beautiful new picture on my stories cover thing whatever it is, it was made by sweetkiwi604. She did an incredible job, didn't she?!**

**I apologize for the wait. You don't know how bad I felt not being able to get on my computer for writing purposes, well, creative writing purposes anyway...**

**This chapter is a little short, and I feel like I have lost some of my touch, so please, just bear with me while I get my 'Becca' gears back in motion. If you guys are NOT satisfied, please let me know. I will most definitely take another crack at it if need be. And please excuse any typos. I've also gotten worse with those, I am sure.**

**I cannot believe how many people have added this story to their alerts, or PMed me, or even reviewed. The last chapter had the highest number of reviews for a single chapter to date! And I am beyond excited to start posting for you all again.  
Even more people have continued to add this story, making me so ecstatic, and my heart swell. I cannot express my happiness to you all enough. And then you all still read and clicked and hoped even when I couldn't post, making me just... I don't even have words for how dedicated you all are. Just know that you are my favorite people, ever. I don't know how I can possibly repay you for how happy you all make me.**

**All right, I'll stop.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer Refresher.**  
**I do not own anything ****_Supernatural_**** related. Not even a little smidge of like, a crack or something. Nothing. The only thing I own is Becca and her thoughts and any changes that you see to the ****_Supernatural_**** story line. ****I also do not own the clip to the Eminem song, ****_Without Me_****, which is my favorite Eminem song, by the way. That is all his genius work.**

* * *

Slowly moving my face farther into the pillow, and dragging my knee towards my chest, I buried myself deeper into the mattress as a phone somewhere near my head started to ring. It was getting louder as my body continued to wake up, and I didn't want to deal with that right now. I wanted sleep. That thick, wholly consuming slumber that had pretty much welcomed me with open arms after Dean and I left the bathroom, to see Sam still hadn't come back. I'd crawled onto Dean's bed and he turned on the television, both of us sitting there watching some late night mystery show. I was clutching a pillow while leaning against the headboard, Dean next to me, his arms resting on both of our legs. It was quiet, it was content, it was soothing. We didn't talk, we just sat in silence. Everything we'd needed to say had been said, and I seriously don't think I'd ever been in a more comforting peace. Eventually though, I had fallen asleep. Then I was being pushed and rolled as Dean's gruff voice ordered, "_Becs, hey, Becs, go sleep on the couch, will ya_?" I didn't. Instead it ended up being me under the sheets and blanket while Dean slept under just the blanket, and a pillow was stuffed between us as some sort of wall. Normally, one of us would have sleepily moved over to the couch and fallen onto the broken springs and lumpy cushions, but tonight, I really just didn't want to be alone; and I think that's completely understandable. I'm just glad that Dean gave into my small uttering of "_please_". But, I digress. There was a phone ringing, waking me up. My hands went up and curled the pillow around my head, covering my ears as the phone continued to chime. I felt myself groan, but didn't really recognize that it was me doing the groaning.

"Dean," I barely heard Sam call out from where he was on the other bed. I hadn't even heard him come in during the night. Either I was really out of it, or he came back really late. Or both. I lightly kicked Dean's leg, and it was a bit hard to do, seeing as there was a super fluffy pillow between us. Ha, that's funny. This is a motel we're talking about. Let's be honest, the pillow was like, three centimeters thick. I was totally capable of kicking him. Instead of acknowledging me, he just continued to lay there like a bump. Well, if he's not concerned, then neither am I. "Dean, your phone," Sam's voice was louder as I allowed the pillow to drop back down to the mattress. Then there was a huff and I heard Sam moving around on his bed before his nails lightly scratched at the surface of the bedside table, searching for the phone. There was a heavy exhale, and I heard him fall back on the bed, clicking the phone open. "Hello?" he groggily asked, clearly wanting to fall back asleep. There was a short silence, and I felt the deep darkness making my lids heavy again and my body sunk deeper into the bed when suddenly Sam said, "Dad? Are you hurt?"

My body went rigid, and I was suddenly more awake than I had been ten seconds ago. Did he say "_Dad"_? I must be hearing things. Dad hadn't contacted any of us in weeks. Probably even months. I didn't even have a real concept of how much time had passed, it had been that long. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and my chest was tight as I snapped open my eyes and saw Sam sitting up in his bed, looking worried. I was breathing though, because I wasn't choking or anything, so I knew I was breathing. "Dad?" I practically whispered as Sam's eyes quickly met mine and his lips formed a thin line on his mouth.

"We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were, if you were okay," Sam said into the phone. It had to be Dad then. Sam was so hell bent on finding just Dad that he didn't really care about anything else.

I brought myself up into a sitting position, facing the headboard and running a hand through my hair, not sure how to address what it was that was going on in the bed next to mine. "Dean," I stated sharply, shaking his shoulder, "you need to get up. It's important." He fought my pushing, and just gripped his pillow tighter to him. "Dean!" I snipped, shoving him hard. There was no way in my mind that this guy was still sleeping. No. So, obviously I did the only logical thing I could think of. I pushed Dean off of the bed, to the space on the floor between the bed and the wall. He hit the ground with a hard _thud_ and I stared wide-eyed with Sam, at the now empty spot on the bed. To be honest, I meant to push him off the bed, I just didn't think I'd be successful at it.

"We're fine," I heard Sam say into the phone, a small bit of frustration taking over his voice. "Dad, where are you?" I leaned across the mattress, peering over the edge where I expected the heap of my brother to be. Dear God, did I push him so hard he like, got a concussion and like, died or something? This was not good! Just then, Dean sat up quickly scaring me, and caused my body to jump back to my side of the bed while a small gasp slash scream thing filled the air. There was a hard glare on his face which subsided when Sam said, "What? Why not?"

Dean looked from Sam to me, and nodded toward the phone in Sam's hand. "Is that Dad?" I tried to compose myself while shaking my head quickly, and rolling my eyes, as though it should have been obvious.

Sam's voice cut across my semi-silent conversation with Dean. "You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mom." Both Dean and I turned to look at Sam, and I don't know what Dean's expression was, but I was kind of a mix of horror and wonder. Wasn't Dad _always_ after the thing that killed Mom? Did that mean that he was closing in on it? "A demon?" Sam asked, "You know for sure?"

"A demon?" Dean and I repeated at the same time, both of us surprised by the evil that had torn apart our family. "What's he saying?" Dean questioned like a nosey little kid. He pulled himself up into a standing position and walked around the edge of the bed before sitting across from Sam.

"You know where it is?" Sam suddenly bit. I was in the process of turning on the bed, to face Sam as well, when my body suddenly froze and I found myself looking at my brothers. Sam was in shock, while Dean was suddenly slightly pale. Was this good news or not? Did this mean that all of this was almost over? Everything we'd been prepared for, done? I felt like I was missing some huge important piece of the puzzle. "Let us help," Sam spoke after a moment. There was another pause before he angrily asked, "Why not?"

Dean suddenly reached forward and held out his hand. "Give me the phone," he ordered.

Sam completely ignored Dean, continuing his battle with our father via cellular device. I watched in awe as Sam actually glared at Dean's outstretched hand. I tried to pull Dean's arm back as Sam started to speak again, trying to get his attention. I don't know why, but I needed to voice my questions out loud to him. Word to the wise, if you have a concern like this – where you are suddenly kind of freaking out thinking that your father may be finally able to kill the thing that killed your mother when you were just a tiny baby asleep in the portable crib thing in your parents room because you had like some cranky baby syndrome that kept you awake ¾ of the night, making your parents separate you from your twin so he could sleep – where you have a ton of emotions in you, running around like a herd of elephants in your stomach, you need to make sure that Dean is looking you in the eye so he can see that. If you just try to talk to him and ignore him facing away from you, he isn't going to realize what you're saying. He's just going to go, "_knock it off and shut up, Bec_." Trust me. I mean, he'll use your name, but it's more likely he's gonna use mine, because I'm always the one doing that. As I continued to pull on his arm, Sam was arguing saying, "Names? What names, Dad – talk to me, tell what's going on."

"Dean!" I hissed, trying to get him to finally look at me.

"No. All right? No way," Sam bit angrily while turning to finally face towards Dean and me.

"Dean!" I practically yelled as he ordered Sam to give him the phone once more.

I continued to tug and he proceeded to ignore my calls and pulls as he snatched the phone out of Sam's hands, immediately bringing it to the side of his face. "Dad, it's me," he said as I groaned and shoved him away from me. "Yes, sir, back in Jericho." Dean nodded his head as he turned and glared at me. I narrowed my eyes back at him, a little bit happy that my dad was asking about me, I assumed he was anyway. I mean, what else could he be talking about? Crap, he was probably talking about when Sam came back into the game. Well, I count too you know! "Where are you?" Dean rolled his eyes as I stuck my tongue out at him. "Yes, sir," Dean spoke into the phone. I held out my hand as his conversation carried on, wanting to talk to my father. I needed answers, and it seemed like everyone in the room was getting information except me. Dean slapped my hand away, only for me to lift it back into place. "Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?" Dean stood up and slapped my hand once more. I slapped him back, and glared at him, but he caught me with a shove and suddenly I found myself on the floor, legs bent and sitting propped up against the bed, and I was staring up at a shocked Sam's face while my head rested between his feet.

* * *

"So, thoff mmamss thafd Tdd gaff ooss," I spoke through the leftover donut that was in the process of being stuffed down my throat, "err awwf kopplss?"

I saw Dean readjust in his seat and turn his head over his shoulder to look at me, before going back to the papers in his hands, shaking his head as though he couldn't actually believe that someone would act like this. "What?" he pressed with an air of "wanna try that again, idiot?"

Sam continued to drive down the road in the direction of wherever it was we were going. I think it's in the Midwest. Twenty bucks says it's in the Midwest, because it's usually _always_ in the Midwest. "I _said_, the names that Dad gave us, are they all couples?" I clarified after drinking some water to empty out my mouth.

"You didn't _say_ anything," Dean argued. "You just growled and made animal noises."

"You would know," I bit back with a sing song tone.

"You guys," Sam cut in. "Come on. Are they couples or not?"

Facing forward again, Dean went back to looking at the information we'd, or he had acquired while talking to Dad, who by the way I never got to talk to on the phone. Yeah, talk about feeling left out of the freaking group. Rude. "Yeah. Three different couples. All went missing."

Sam turned to look between Dean and the road as he spoke. "And they're all from different towns? Different states?"

"That's right. You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again," Dean explained.

I snapped my head up, furrowing my eyes suspiciously. "But we take road trips, like, everyday...and we're driving towards this? I mean, I know that we're going to fight the monster, but I mean, where do we draw a line? How do we _really_ know that these people are linked?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's a big country. They could have disappeared anywhere."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed holding a hand up to Sam.

It was weird going back and forth with him though, because we still hadn't actually _talked_, you know? I kind of just went about my business, pretending last night hadn't happened, and trying to go back to normal, like I do with Dean; and Sam kind of just bumped into and around me, clearly wanting to say something, but not knowing what. It was awkward to say the least. Well, no, I suppose saying "uhh" is the least I could say. But whatever, word count is not the point is it? The point is that I don't think Sam and I knew how to address the situation. Dean had helped me through last night, and I did feel better – but this random, whatever this was between me and my super sized twin wasn't exactly peachy. It was something that no one was acknowledging, and something would trigger it. I could tell.

Dean wasn't buying our argument though. "Yeah, _could've_. But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another." Freaking _knew_ we were going to the Midwest. Who owes me twenty? That's right, Dean does. Well, I suppose Sam owes me twenty too, so technically I have forty coming my way. Ooh, man I love being right!

"Is this the second week of April?" I questioned.

"Yep," Dean said, popping the 'p'.

All right. Sounds legit to me. Case of the missing couples is officially underway. Might as well suck it up and ride this out until the next movie comes along, unburying yet another secret. I leaned back in the seat and turned my head to look out of the window, just waiting to pull into Whereversville, Indiana.

"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?" Sam bit, clearly upset.

"Yahtzee," Dean started before I cut him off.

"Um, you mean Bingo."

"What?" he questioned, not understanding as he turned and looked at me.

I turned from the window to meet his eyes. "You know, like "_Bingo, we've got a winner_"? Who says Yahtzee? Overgrown man apes, that's who. Just walking around, thinking they're all cool and –"

"Shut it," Dean cut me off, turning back to face Sam. "Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master." Dean was beaming as he stared in wonder at all of the stuff Dad had given him. He looked like a kid in a candy store, or like a Dean Winchester in a pie filled strip club.

"Do you want a minute alone with the case, Dean?" I teased as Sam huffed and quickly jerked the car to the side of the road and killed the engine.

Dean and I both turned and looked at Sam, completely shocked. "What are you doing?" Dean voiced both of our concern.

"We're not going to Indiana," Sam announced, not turning but staring straight out of the windshield while resting his arms on the wheel.

I stared at him with round eyes. Did he really get to decide that? I wasn't actually sure. I mean, this was a case that Dad was sending us on, which kind of meant orders, and we weren't just allowed to go against orders. Trying to go against orders brought on an argument, headache, and usually some things being thrown. I slowly turned to face Dean, and I mean slowly, it probably took all of fifty-eight seconds for me to turn and see Dean just blinking at Sam, seeming almost unfazed.

"We're not?" Dean simply asked, as though it was actually an option.

My eyes slowly moved over to Sam, who was pursing his lips and lowering his brows. "No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code."

Now it was my turn to speak, I blinked, staring at the both of them, and then looked at Dean. "Is he allowed to do that?" I questioned.

Dean shook his head "no" while he seemed to sigh and already know where all of this was going. "Sam –"

"Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta right to be there. We've gotta help," Sam argued while turning in his seat and fully facing us, determination on his face.

I shook my head this time, disagreeing. I could see Sam's point, and I felt for him, really I did. This demon thing, if that's what it really was, took not only our mom – who Sam never got to meet, just like me, outside of in our old kitchen when she burst into flames, which is scarring – but it also took Jess. Jess was pretty much Sam's first girlfriend. I mean, sure, we'd each had a "relationship" or two while growing up, but not like what Sam had with Jess. What really sucks is that I never got to meet her. I guess it wasn't really fair of us to try and keep him from going, but that didn't mean we weren't going to. "Dad doesn't want our help, Sam. He wants us to go to Indiana."

"I don't care," he enunciated bitterly.

I sighed and closed my eyes briefly, recalling the last argument we'd had about orders in the asylum, and we all see how well that turned out last night. "He's given us an order," I spoke quietly, afraid of what the words would bring.

"I don't care," he repeated just as firmly. My eyes opened to find his staring into mine. "We don't always have to do what he says," he told me, just like back at the asylum.

I chewed on my lower lip as I did my best to avoid Sam's gaze. He had a totally different look in his eyes every time they were pointed in my direction – and that look held pity. Pity, guilt, fear, anger, so many emotions that it just, I couldn't look at them.

"Sam," Dean cut in. "Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it's important."

Sam's eyes were no longer burning my skin as he looked over at Dean. "All right, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I'm talking one week here, guys, to get answers. To get revenge."

It was that term that really never clicked in my personality. I guess it was what made me different from the rest of my family. Well, that and the boobs. Okay, the boobs, that, the shorter height, small hands, emotions, and lack of hunter skill, but who's keeping track? But anyways, I mean, I get my dad wanting revenge, and even Dean. Dean had known Mom, and I assume they were close. Dean sure misses her enough that it would seem they were. And I guess that I totally get Sam's revenge quest now. He lost Jess, like Dad lost Mom. But why don't I feel the need for revenge?

"All right, look, I know how you feel – " Dean sighed out.

"Do you," Sam bit quickly. I felt my eyes widen, and Dean's face went into shock. "How old where you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I felt?"

The car filled with thick air and Sam's brows never rose from where they'd dangerously lowered over his eyes. It was like he was trying to make Dean feel the pain he did. But Dean didn't lose his cool, which is actually a little bit surprising in itself. He gritted through it and spoke calmly, and I could tell it was a little bit of a struggle for him. "Dad said it wasn't safe. For any of us. Why do you think he left Becca back there, and told her to come find me? I mean, he obviously knows something that we don't, so if he says to stay away, we stay away."

Sam shook his head before that sadistic angry smirk came on his face again. You know the one, where he's pissed off and he finds the comment to be sarcastically humorous and he more or less smiles because he sort of wants to piss you off and know that whatever he's going to tell you next is going to push every button so hard you're bound to snap? Yeah, that face.

"I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man, either of you. I mean, it's like you don't even question him. You just go along, doing as he says, no matter what it means for you. He left you," Sam turned holding a hand up to me, "alone in some town, with no direction, no weapons, no money – and you followed his order written on a _napkin_."

"It's called being a good son or daughter!" Dean immediately yelled back. Sam spun in his seat and opened the driver door before stomping his way to the trunk and throwing it open. Dean followed him as though the scene had been choreographed, and I sat there, not knowing what just happened. I heard things moving around in the trunk, and Dean's booming voice echoing outside. Quickly scurrying my way out of the backseat, I worked my over to them as quickly as I could. "…bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks."

Whoa. What? Dean had been the mediator for all of this. He was the one who had stood there, taking everyone's crap, just holding it all in like he always does. Him snapping like this was completely not what I expected.

Sam stopped shoving things into a bag, and turned to look at Dean, catching my eyes briefly over Dean's shoulder. "Is that really what you guys think?"

My mouth dropped open as I struggled to answer him. I literally had been doing nothing but telling him that since whenever, and now I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud again. I didn't have to though, because Dean quickly answered with, "Yes, it is," before I got a chance.

Sam caught my eye and stood there, as though he was waiting for an answer, but I couldn't figure out how to speak. When I didn't respond, he dropped his head and nodded slowly. "Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California," he announced before swinging his book bacg over his shoulder and turned away Dean and me, walking back down the road from the way we'd come from.

"Whoa, what?" I snapped, spinning around and staring at where he was walking. "What do you mean you're going to California?"

Sam didn't even stop walking to look at me, he kept walking, yelling back to me. "I'm going to find Dad, Becca. I'm not going to just go on another one of these hunts because he doesn't want to answer any of my questions."

"So you're going to _leave_? God, did _nothing_ I told you last night sink in? Sam, you can't just leave! Not again! Come on, just get in the car, and we can go to freaking wherever the hell we're going," I told him. He didn't answer me, but instead just kept continuing to walk farther down the dark highway. I felt anger swell up inside of me. Here he was, leaving me, even after I told him everything. It was like none of it made a difference. I'd told him my secret, spilled to him how much I'd felt alone, and how much his leaving killed me, and here he was going to do it all over again. I closed the distance between us and shoved him, hard, causing him to stumble forward before he whipped around and stepped back a few feet. "Fine! Go! We don't want you here anyway! You _are_ a selfish bastard! God, Sam, how can you leave?" I was shoving, hitting, punching, screaming, and he didn't fight me even a little.

Dean was close behind me, pulling me away from Sam, stopping my angry outbursts of beating him. "Come on, Sam, you're not serious about leaving."

I struggled against Dean, wanting to claw at Sam's face, and Dean tightened his hold as he pinned me to his chest. Sam watched my angered face and I saw his eyes soften but his jaw tightened. "I am serious."

"It's the middle of the night!" Dean yelled from behind me. "Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?" His hold on me dropped and I stopped fighting him, feeling angry at seeing Sam standing there, before he turned to walk away from us again.

Dean and I watched as Sam turned around to face us, and somehow he'd managed to get farther away than I would I have liked. "That's what I want you to do," he bit.

And that's the line that sent me into a rage. It was like there was fire in my veins and black closing in on my sight as all I saw was Sam's form standing there, and I wanted to lunge forward and beat his face into the ground. I had broken down in front of him. Shared a secret that I'd worked so hard to bury. I brought up so many feelings and memories and emotions last night, because he kept pushing me to. I felt used, like he'd just played some sick joke on me, just to watch me crack. And here he was, doing it all over again. I heard the trunk slam behind me followed by a "Goodbye, Sam," and Dean opened the door before climbing in and saying, "Bring your ass, Becca," he ordered.

I didn't move. I stared at Sam while he watched me, Dean revving the engine in the Impala beside me. "Becca, you can come with me," Sam announced almost quietly. "We can find Dad together."

"Becca, get in the car," Dean ordered again, yelling this time.

I lingered there, glaring at Sam, hearing Dean's orders. Turning to look back at Dean whose head was turned, staring at me through of the window, waiting for my immediate response, I nodded my head. "Gimme a second," I spoke hardly above engine. I walked up to Sam, Dean waiting for me in the Impala, and I stood toe to toe with my brother who looked almost hopeful while I looked up at his towering face. "I will _never_ leave my family," I sneered at him with as much anger and venom as I had bottled up inside of me. It was reflex that caused me to recoil my hand and connect my palm across his cheek. "Forget what I told you, Sam. I wish I never had." And I left him standing there, as I spun around and stomped my way back to the Impala and took over his previous seat. The minute my door shut, Dean took off down the road, leaving Sam standing there to watch the car disappear, while both Dean and I glared ahead through the windshield.

* * *

The sun was finally up as we made into Burkitsville, Indiana. Dean and I hadn't really talked as he drove. We were both too angry to not snap on each other, so we sat in silence while the radio blared around us, making it hard to even hear the engine. I don't know about Dean, but I was calmer. Annoyed more than anything. Hurt that my brother could just easily walk away, especially after everything I'd told him. I honestly felt betrayed. But I couldn't help but notice that this time, even though I knew he was leaving, I still hadn't really gotten a goodbye.

I didn't acknowledge the fact that Dean had pulled over to the side of the road. He didn't move, and I didn't say anything. I did however turn my head when I heard the small click of a cell phone. I looked beside me to see Dean pressing some buttons and then he stared at the screen for a minute or two before slapping the phone closed and shoving it back into his pocket.

"Come on," he bit before killing the engine and getting out of the car.

I wouldn't have called Sam either.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-three.**

**I want to first of all acknowledge the destruction that has occurred in Oklahoma this past week. For those that don't know, there have been some pretty crazy winds, and today (May 20th) there was a mile wide tornado that tore through the town of Moore. I hope you all can join me in sending prayers and well wishes to those that live there. If any of you guys reading this were affected by the devastation, I hope that things get better for you, and please know you are in my thoughts.**

**Did I tell you that I had more time to write or what! Man, it really does feel good to be back with this. But now, I have to admit somethings. All right guys, I've come to the conclusion that I am addicted to three very specific things.  
1. Dancing horribly and singing slightly okay to my Michael Jackson playlist on Pandora.  
2. Roseanne and That '70's Show reruns.  
3. FREAKING CANDY CRUSH, OHMYGOD.  
I just thought you all should know, so that if I don't get posts out fast enough, it's probably because I'm paying more attention to one of those three things. I apologize now, because I don't think I'm going to break any of those addictions any time soon.**

**Okay, I'm rambling. Sorry.**

**I want to thank all of you that have read the last chapter. Wow, you guys have over 100 views in less than a day! That is just, mind blowing! And then the reviews! I know I said in the last chapter that you all gave the highest number to date, but you guys outdid yourselves, and now Chapter Forty-two has the highest number of reviews. You all just rock so hard that it gives me butterflies to know how much like the story. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and adding this story. You mean the world to me.**

**Anyway, sorry for taking up so much of your time.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

Pulling down my shirt as I followed a few feet behind Dean, we headed down the street, neither of us talking about what had happened. He wasn't even getting on my case about lagging behind, but I could feel the anger rolling off of him and leaving big old piles that I was now trudging through. He stopped and I followed suit, staring ahead a few couple feet to where what was labeled as a café sat. A man sat on the bench, looking ahead, apparently not noticing us. Dean sighed and looked down at me, where I met his eyes and I think we both held the same emotion. "Let's just do this," he spoke, walking towards the man on the bench once more.

Standing just on the edge of the bench, Dean leaned to the side and pointed up to the sign that hung ahead of us reading "_Scotty's Café_" and said, "Let me guess," he nodded to the man. "Scotty."

The man looked up at the hanging sign and then back towards Dean and me, where I was standing beside him. "Yep."

"Hi, my name's John Bonham," Dean introduced, extending a hand out to the man. "This is my sister, Debbie," he indicated to me.

It took everything in me to not scrunch up my face at the name. Do I _look_ like a Debbie? No. I look like a Becca. Either way, I kept my cool, slapped a smile on my face, and shook the man's hand. "Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?" Scotty questioned.

I froze and looked over my shoulder to Dean, to see him stumped. Wow. This guy was good. "Wow," Dean managed to get out. "Good. Classic rock fan."

"Well, we can't be the only ones," I muttered up to him as I stood back up straight.

"What can I do for you two?" Scotty asked, not getting off of his bench.

Dean pulled some papers out of his pocket and unfolded them before handing them over to Scotty who took them and seemed to quickly glance at them and then back up to us, as though he instantly knew. "We were wondering if, uh, you'd seen these people by chance."

Scotty quickly looked down at the pictures again and shook his head while continuing to study the photos a little bit harder this time. "Nope. Who are they?" He didn't even seem to have any emotion while looking at the photos. I swear, this guy has a monotone personality.

"Friends of ours," I answered, watching him. "They went missing about, oh, how long do you think it's been, John?" I turned facing Dean.

Whoa, first off, that was odd. I just called Dean "John", and that's our dad's name, and Dean sort of looks like our Dad, and it was kind of weird. My tongue even seemed to not trust itself with it. "I think it's been about a year," Dean answered. "They passed through somewhere around here, and we've already hit up Scottsburg and Salem – "

Scotty cut off Dean before he could continue with the run down. Holding out the papers, and I took them from him, looking at the pictures and then to Scotty. Something in his face told me we could _not_ trust this guy for anything. "Sorry," Scotty apologized, a stern face plaguing him as he caught my gaze and then quickly looked over at Dean. "We don't get many strangers around here."

Nodding in our thanks, Dean, with a fully straight face, looked to Scotty and told him, "Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?" The hell is this guy doing? Scotty's face didn't change, but I looked at Dean like he was crazy. Because he is. Dean chuckled at Scotty's lack of a face change or response and nodded his head. "Never mind. See you around." He then knocked his elbow into the side of my arm and nodded for us to continue on our way of finding new people to ask. Smiling to Scotty, I folded up the flyers and stuck them in my pocket, following Dean with a roll of my eyes.

I am sure Scotty's eyes lingered on our forms as we moved further down the block. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I matched pace with Dean. "I don't think I like Scotty much," I informed him.

Dean snorted as we continued to walk. "I doubt the guy was voted Prom King or something; he had the personality of a wet blanket," he responded.

"Did you see the way he had like, no emotion whatsoever? It was weird. I don't trust him."

"Me either. Make sure you stay clear of him, got it?"

I smiled as I bumped into my brother and stared down at my feet. "I will," I told him. "So where do you want to hit up next?" I questioned as we stopped on the corner and looked around. "We've got the auto shop, the general store, the, is that an antique shop? How does that work in a place like this? Sally decided that she doesn't want her four thousand year old stool anymore and gives it to the store where her neighbor Bill goes and buys it? The hell? Why wouldn't you just go and sell it to Bill out right? That seems like such a waste!" I ranted as we looked from store window to store window.

Dean sighed at my talking and pinched his nose as he looked at each store. "Let's hit up the general store. We can get some supplies and stock up while we're at it. There's no point in going to the auto shop without Baby, so if we get nowhere here, we'll hit up the other stores and circle back to her," he decided. Nodding in agreement I bit my lower lip and sighed heavily. Deciding on where to go really didn't seem to make a difference since neither of us moved any closer to the general store, or any store for that matter. I continued to stare forward, watching people slowly walking up and down the sidewalk, entering and leaving stores. They all seemed happy. "Hey," Dean tapped me with his elbow, drawing my attention up to him. "It's gonna be fine."

"I don't wanna talk about it," I grumbled past his assurance. I know he was trying to be nice, but I didn't want niceness. I wanted Sam to not be gone. Don't tell anyone I admitted that. It will make me seem weak. Weak_er_ anyway. I know my brothers are super strong, but along with my boobs came this thing called estrogen. It was like a two for one deal when I was at the development factory that day. You know how it goes. But anyway, back to what I was talking about; with that estrogen came a whole lot of hormones. Like, oceans of hormones and emotions and feelings and I cannot bottle it up as much as they do. I crack, like really easily lately it seems. And I cry, way more than they do. I'm just an overall emotional person. And I can't help it. Dean and Sam handled it well though. Sam always had and Dean is getting better. I think I tend to be a little bit stronger around him than I do Sam. Dean didn't respond, but kept watching me as I looked from him down to the path in front of me once more. "Come on, drummer boy," I said before looking both ways and crossing the street.

Wandering into the general store, we saw the people behind the counter talking with another person, so we decided to check out the aisles and see if they had anything we could possibly use. We didn't do very well though, because we got down the first aisle and immediately started bickering on just what the term "supplies" meant. Dean said it meant batteries, dental floss, whiskey, super intense needles, band-aids, snack pies, more snack pies, and basically it came to supplies not being whatever I picked out. There were a few, "_put the bag back, Becca, we're not getting that_"s, and some "_why do you always get to make all the decisions_?"s, with a few girly slaps back and forth peppered in. It wasn't intense, but it was a release, and by the end of it I'm sure we each felt better. Once we'd agreed on everything in the basket, for the most part, we waited our turn in line to pay. I placed the basket on the counter while Dean whipped out his wallet and the man smiled kindly to us. Unloading everything, I slid the basket off the counter and stacked it in the tower of other baskets, and watched as the man rang everything up.

"Is this all I can help you with today?" he asked as he rang up the last three or four items.

"Actually," Dean answered, "we were wondering if we could ask you a couple questions by chance?"

The man finished bagging up our items and nodded his head as he hit the total button and Dean pulled out his card for payment. "I'll do my best," the man smiled.

"Great," Dean smiled. "We were just passin' through the town, and askin' if anyone had seen a couple of our friends. They came through here about a year ago, and have been missing ever since. We've got a few flyers, you got them, right?" Dean turned to face me.

Padding my pockets, I stuck my hand in and pulled out the folded up papers before handing them over. "Yeah, here," I responded. "Like he said, no one has seen them since their trip. We've already hit up a few nearby towns and all. I know it's been a while since they'd have been here, but do either of them look familiar?"

The man stared at the photos for a long while and his face fell a little in the corners of his mouth. He almost seemed to mutter to himself before he shook his head like he was trying to shake some sort of feeling off. "Sorry, but they don't look familiar," he told us.

I looked over at Dean who caught my eye while sticking a tongue in his cheek. "You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?"

A woman stepped up beside the man, curious what our conversation was about, and the man showed her the flyers. She looked at the photos and then shook her head, indicating she didn't recognize them either. Had this couple even come through this town? "Nope, don't remember 'em," the guy answered. "You said they were friends of yours?"

"That's right," Dean nodded as a girl came next to the older couple and then set down some boxes on the counter next to our bags.

"Did the guy have a tattoo?" she asked, looking at the photos.

I nodded my head at her, "Yeah, he did!" I spoke enthusiastically, finally feeling like we might be getting somewhere.

The girl turned and patted the man on the arm while pointing to the photo. "You remember?" she questioned, "They were just married."

The man eyed the girl kindly and then slowly nodded his head, as though something were coming to him. "You're right," he told her. I furrowed my brows as he continued. You're really going to stand there and tell me that after we give you photos to look at and tell you that the couple had been here, while showing you flyers where their _matching_ last names were in big bright letters, that you all of a sudden have some light bulb going off because this chick goes, "_You remember_?" Um, color me skeptic, and outline me in not buying your bullshit. "They did stop for gas. Weren't here more than ten minutes," the man finished. Huh, how convenient.

"Do you remember anything _else_?" Dean questioned, taking back the photos and folding them up once more and handing them to me.

"I told 'em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town." Well this story just keeps getting better now doesn't it?

Pulling out a map from the pamphlet thing nearby, I unfolded it and laid it on the counter in front of us. "Think you could point us in that same direction?" I looked up at him as he studied the map.

"Sure," he smiled while reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a pen and clicking the top of it.

* * *

Chewing on my tongue and studying the unfolded map in my lap, I stared at the pen line that the guy, Harley, and drawn on it back at the general store. Our windows were open, and the radio was on as my hair blew around my face. Using one hand to repeatedly try and push my loose hair back, I used the other to try and hold down the flopping map. This is ridiculous. Groaning, I sat up straight and pressed my lips together while look ahead out to the road in front of us. "Is there a problem?" Dean asked from beside me. Turning to look at him, I allowed the wind to fully whip my hair around my face, obscuring my vision and basically blinding me. I know that Dean got what my frustration was stemming from, because I heard him choke back a laugh.

"Think we could maybe close the windows now?" I threw out there with a little bit of an attitude.

"Uh uh," he shook his head as I tried to fold up the map so that I could focus on my mess of a hair-do. "It's starting to smell like a burger joint in here. Just throw your hair up in one of them pony deals."

I stopped folding the map and looked up at him like he was crazy. Well, I tried to look up at him. Really all I got to look at was a bunch of brown hair flying in front of my eyes and slapping me in the face. "It only smells because you don't know how to wash your hairy hobbit feet, so your shoes always stink," I bit back. "And it's called a pony _tail_, ya fool."

Getting fed up with the map, I just finished bunching it up and stuck it under my leg. Working my hands through what was now a giant _knot_ on my head, I did what I could to pull it all back into some sort of something so that I could deal with this later. I saw Dean wave me off and change hands on the wheel. "You're the only one with hobbit feet, loser."

"I do _not_ have hobbit feet," I argued.

"You're the one who admitted to shaving them," he reminded me.

Oh sure, leave it to Dean to remember something I told him when we were drunk one night. "My bad, it's not your _feet_ that stink. It's your breath, and it smells like _lies._ I do _not_ have hairy hobbit toes." Dean eyed me from the corner of his eyes, sending me that look that told me he knew I wasn't telling the truth, and had the crazy ability to make me crack. Sighing I tried to fight the smile that was slowly creeping over my face. "I don't have hairy hobbit toes, _becaaaause_ I shave them," I admitted, trying to hide the pink that was now on my cheeks. I cannot be the only one who has to shave her toes, can I? Pretend you don't know about my hobbit toes. Only three people know, me, you, and Dean. And if someone finds out, we'll know who told. All I'm saying is that snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, okay? Remember that.

Dean was smiling in satisfaction, and I lightly shoved him towards his door before leaning back in my seat. Bending one arm and propping it on the window, I leaned my head against my palm and just watched as the trees passed us by. This felt right. Sitting in the Impala, feeling good, having fun with my brother. _This_ was life I loved. The only crappy part about it was that Sam wasn't here to do it all with us, him or our dad. "You hear that?" Dean suddenly asked, causing me to turn my head and look at him in confusion. I watched as he leaned forward and clicked off the radio, making sure to strain our ears for whatever sound he was hearing. He started turning and digging around in the backseat, struggling to find a way to watch both the road and locate whatever was making some kind of noise. "Hey, check in the back, will ya? Something is beeping like crazy." I kneeled on the front seat and bent over it, digging around in search of the very faint beeps. Finally reaching Dean's bag, I pulled it up onto the backseat and unzipped it, the beeps immediately getting louder. Pushing and shoving things around, I sat back a little confused when I reached in and pulled out a flashing and squealing EMF meter. Showing it to Dean, he looked just as surprised as I was as I continued facing the back of the car and holding onto the back of the front seat while sitting on my knees. "What the hell?" Dean posed as he took the meter from my hand.

As I am sure you can guess, because you are just as smart as I am, we, well Dean, pulled the car over and we crawled out. The EMF didn't stop the entire time we stood outside of the car. Going to the back of the Impala, Dean popped open the trunk and we each grabbed a gun, making sure it was loaded. "What do you think it is?" I questioned as I tucked the gun away and he slammed the trunk closed.

"I don't know," he responded, "but I'm guessing it's in there," he nodded towards the trees.

Of course it's gonna be in there. Because that's a numerous amount of trees, which is just a fun way of saying it's the freaking woods. I sighed and looked over at him, to see a smile on his face. Did he find this funny? How come we are repeatedly going and battling things that scare me!? Why can't we go and fight a mummy on a plane or something? I think it's only fair that Dean get tortured too sometimes, and one time is _definitely_ not enough! "Why does it always have to be in the woods? Why can't it be like, some terrifying monster in the middle of a, I don't know, puppy store?" I whined as Dean just huffed and started walking into the woods without me. I pouted and followed after him, double checking that nothing was going to eat me before I stepped into the danger zone.

Do you know what is fun about walking around the woods with your older brother? Well, not a lot of things actually. But I bet it's more fun with your brother than mine. My brother just likes to pick on me and trick me and says, "_Oh my God, I think I see something, quick, Bec, get down_!" over and over so that I throw myself to the ground or scream when I hear something step on a nearby leaf and it ends up being a squirrel or bird. Basically, what I am trying to tell you is that my big brother sucks, and is not cool. Not even a little bit. First he laughs at my hair, then picks on my hobbit feet – which I _don't_ have, right? – and then he teases me while we follow the EMF farther into the woods full of apple trees. I bet he wouldn't be doing this if _Dad_ were here. Oh… wait… I felt myself frown as I journeyed behind Dean, who was stuffing the EMF into his pocket.

"Hey, check this out," he told me as he stopped and looked at whatever was in front of him. Stepping up beside him and following his gaze up to this disgusting scarecrow on a giant cross type deal thing, I outwardly "_ew_"ed. "Dude, this guy is _fugly_," he announced to no one in particular.

I have to admit, he was right. This thing was giant, and super stuffed, and it had the _weirdest_ looking skin. It was like leather, or a really bad wax mold. It kind of made me a little bit sick and caused a grossed out look to take over my face. "It kind of reminds me of Leather Face," I told Dean as we both kept staring.

"Yeah," he agreed before stepping to the side and grabbing a ladder that had been leaning on a nearby tree. Shoving the ladder against the post thing, he climbed up so that he was staring the scarecrow in the what would be face.

"Oh, ew, don't _touch_ it. Why do you always have to touch things?" I groaned as I saw him reach forward and move the clothes around on the scarecrow's arm. He pulled the sleeve to the side and looked down at me.

"You still got those flyers?" Digging around in my pockets, I finally found them. Unfolding them and looking from the exposed arm to the flyer and back, I handed the paper up to Dean while staring at the design on the arm. It was a little stretched and deformed, but it was definitely a match. This scarecrow was the same guy from our flyer. "Nice tat," Dean told the scarecrow before climbing down the ladder and handing the flyers back to me. That's just nasty. Man, if we just found Leather Face, I'm gonna be _super _pissed off.

* * *

After Dean finally put the ladder back after he was fully satisfied with staring at and inspecting Leather Face, he tried to touch me with his hands, and I freaked, swatting away at him the best I could. I mean, he _touched_ Leather Face's skin! He probably has so many diseases right now that we are both going to die from it. I don't even know why people think this guy is so cool. He is _super_ mean to me! If you only knew! Anyway, we finally managed to get back to the car, and I immediately pulled out a wet nap that came in some bag of food we'd gotten God knows when. Scrubbing myself down with the napkin I felt so much better, until Dean freaking touched me again. Seriously. I want to give this brother up for adoption and find a new one. A nice one. One who maybe, I don't know, _doesn't_ pick on his sister. Yeah, ooh, a new brother who lets me sleep on the beds in the motel, and lets me drive the car that he _doesn't_ love more than me, ooh, yes! And big brother who when he sees that there's a scary leather, wax, monster thing hanging off a giant whatever in the woods _doesn't _touch the monster and then chase me down. Sigh, if only, if only. Well, regardless of whatever new brother I get after shipping Dean off to the orphanage, I'm currently stuck with the one I have now, and he was speeding back into town, determined. I don't _blame_ him for speeding. I mean, the scary scarecrow will kind of make you itch for answers, and Dean doesn't like to itch.

"If that's the guy, then what happened to the girl?" I asked.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know, but that's what we need to find out."

Agreeing, I pulled the flyers back out of my pocket. "I wonder why they needed two people. I mean, clearly the guy _becomes_ the scarecrow, like some sort of adopted body or something, like a shape shifter –"

"You think it's a shifter?" Dean cut me off, with raised brows.

Shaking my head quickly, I held up a hand. "Oh, God no. A shifter wouldn't sit in the orchard like that. It'd be moving through the town, and it would definitely be causing more havoc. Look at what the one we dealt with back in wherever-the-hell did to Sam's friends. I just meant that whatever is hanging on that wooden _thing_ is taking over the victim, or at least part of it. I didn't see its face. Did it look like him?" I held up the paper for Dean to look at.

He took the paper from my hand and held in front of him so that he could look at it and the road at the same time. "Nah," he answered, dropping the paper onto the seat between us. "The thing's face was too messed up to really be able to tell."

I bit my lip and stared down at the other flyer, the one about the girl, and couldn't stop trying to figure out what would have happened to her. It didn't take too long for us to cross back into the town and find the way back to the where we'd been before. I unbuckled as Dean shifted the car to park outside of the general store, in the gas station area that faced the street.

"So what're we gonna do?" I questioned as he pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well," I sighed, "I don't think my wanting to go storming in there yelling about what we found is really a good idea. So unless you got something else to roll with…"

Dean leaned back in the seat, tapping the wheel. "Well, why don't we do what we normally do?"

"Ask a ton of questions until everyone gets super suspicious and then the town starts to talk, causing everyone to get angry and defensive and drive us away, only to have us pretend to leave and then actually wait until night time where we think it's safer to come sneaking back in?"

"Yahtzee," he pointed to me before climbing out of the vehicle.

Rolling my eyes, I mumbled out, "It's _Bingo_," before climbing out of the car right behind him.

Stepping up to where Dean was talking to the girl from inside the general store the _first_ time we'd been here, I leaned against the car and smiled at her. "Good to see you guys are back," she greeted.

"Never left," Dean responded.

"You still looking for your friends?" she put her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she knuckled her other hand and perched it on her hip.

"Never stopped," I responded as I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and crossed my ankles, Dean leaning on the car next to me.

"You mind fillin' her up there, Emily?" Dean asked her, causing me look at him strangely. How did he know her name? He must have known my silent question because he rubbed his fingers up and down on his neck, causing me to lean past him and look to see a necklace reading "_Emily_" hanging around her neck. Huh. So either he was actually looking at her necklace, or he was looking at her chest and the necklace got in the way. Emily nodded and grabbed the pump, coming back to where Dean and I were leaning. We both pushed off the car and stepped to the side, allowing her to open the gas tank door and fill the car. "So, you grew up here?" Dean asked her as she turned to face us and smiled.

Sticking her hands in her own pockets, she shrugged. "I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in," she told us.

"They're real nice people," I responded to her, hoping to make her feel a little bit better.

Her smile deepened and she nodded in agreement. "Everybody's nice here," she admitted.

Dean cleared his throat, clearly wanting to move past the "girly" moment that I was having with Emily. I'm sure he'd call it "chick bonding" or something equally dumb. It was too much of a moment that Dean wasn't a part of, making him bored or uncomfortable. "So, what, it's the, uh, perfect little town?"

Emily seemed to think about Dean's accusation for a second. The way he said it, it was almost like an insult, like he didn't believe it or something. Cue the "making people uncomfortable" part of our everyday life. "Well, you know," she finally spoke, "it's the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it's almost like we're blessed."

I looked up at Dean and saw him nodding slowly. "Hey," I quickly chirped, "you probably know all about this then. Have you ever been out to that orchard? By that scarecrow?"

I noticed a grossed out expression cover Emily's face and she looked like she had a sick taste in her mouth. "Yeah, it creeps me out," she told us.

"See! I told you I wasn't some random freak," I bantered, slapping Dean's arm as he laughed.

"Whose is it?" he questioned with a small smile.

"I don't know," Emily shook her head with a shrug. "It's just always been there." And you didn't think to ask about it? I'm pretty sure that if I had been in this town and seen that scarecrow the first thing I would have done was slammed the motel door shut behind me and looked for my father. Then I would have freaked out and told him everything, making sure he took every possible weapon that existed to destroy it. But I guess that's what separates our life from her life. We know how to handle monsters, and she just ignores them. Amateur. Never in my life have I felt a little bit better about my horrible upbringing.

Dean signaled over to the garage that was attached to the general store and gas station – what the hell? How did I not notice this before? Is this store literally everything in town? Do other people even get a chance to make a living? Hell, the other towns are probably losing their homes because all the people in _this_ town are going to the other towns and taking their jobs because Emily's family is in charge of all these places. Anyway, Dean motioned towards the red van parked in the open garage. "That your aunt and uncle's?"

Shaking her head, Emily pulled the gas pump from the Impala and stuck it back on the whatever it's called. "Customer. Had some car troubles," she answered before twisting the cap back on the tank.

"Let me guess, it's a couple. Guy and a girl?" I pressed catching Dean's eye.

Emily didn't pay any attention to us as she closed the door on the tank and hummed out an, "Mmhmm," causing Dean to frown and me to not like where any of this was going.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-four.**

**Sorry for the little bit of a wait, guys, but it has been a tad busy here.  
I have been slowly working on this chapter each night since a week ago, but I had to pause for a while to go watch my mom graduate. That's right. I totally did the shout out there. :)**

**In other news, I HAVE TOTALLY BLOCKED/DELETED/UNINSTALLED CANDY CRUSH. I don't know if you guys know the addiction that game gives and how long it took me to figure out that I needed to do it, but it is done. No applause necessary.  
However, now I have replaced that addiction with playing ****_Goldeneye_**** on my Nintendo 64. Yep, old school.**

**But, anyway.  
I do have some relevant things for all of you. I know I said that I have way more time to write now, and frankly, I do. I just spend a lot of that time sleeping and having a life... and playing ****_Goldeneye_****. So I have decided to set the goal for myself of uploading 2 chapters a week. I am not going to totally promise that that goal will be achieved, but I will definitely try my hardest. Now, just so we are all clear, this week will run Sunday to Saturday US Central Time. This way we are all on the same page about it all. That might be a little specific, but some people might like specifics, you know?**

**Major thanks to all of the reviewers/PMers/adders. You are the coolest people in the world, and I have butterflies all the time now because of you. You just cannot even understand the excitement I get. I owe you everything. EVVVERRRRYYYYYYYthing.**

**Special thanks to Jenmm31 for the uber amount of help she gave me. She's the coolest. Make sure to check out her stories!**

**Okay, enough rambling.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"Dean, I don't want pie," I whined as we walked down the sidewalk, back towards Scotty's Café. We'd driven by and noticed that there had been a couple seated at the window, and from what Emily told us, there were only two people that weren't really able to get around via their car. And besides, this town didn't get a lot of visitors, remember? Us, plus that couple, were probably the biggest crowd they'd seen in a while. I thought that maybe we should go and try to find out some more answers about this creep-o Leather Face thing on a cross that hangs out in the woods. But no, because I am the youngest, I don't get to make the "ultimate decision". No, instead we were going to go and try and convince the couple that they needed to leave town, _now_, instead of waiting around for night. He said it was a kind of "cut out the middle man" type of thing. I wanted more of a "search and destroy" but who am I? Just a genius with a dope by my side.

He was walking quickly, well, quickly for me, since his legs were so long. But he was checking the traffic, as if there was going to be any, before speeding off down the block ahead of me. "Everyone wants pie," he mused.

Rolling my eyes, I had to jog to keep up with him. "I just don't see how pie is going to help us right now."

Dean spun around and I practically ran right into him as he held his arms up in the air like he was shocked at what I'd just said. "Whoa, _what_? You don't see how pie is going to _help_ us right now? Becca, pie _always_ helps. Always. There is never a situation that pie can't fix."

We looked at each other, him seeming a tad put off, me completely innocent, staring up at him blankly. "Dean, I'm starting to think your addiction and unnatural love for pie is becoming an issue."

He waved me off and turned around to continue back to the café. "That couple is probably having pie right now," he yelled over his shoulder.

"You don't know that!" I yelled back to him while cupping my mouth. Sighing as he continued down the street, I groaned and jogged up to him before he went in the door.

I made it right over just as the he pulled open the door, and the bell rang over our heads. As Dean barely stepped into the place, I had to squish up against him so that the door could close. Dean didn't move as Scotty was placing plates in front of the couple. Plates full of pie. Dear God, I'm never going to hear the end of this now. "Oh, hey, Scotty," Dean mused and I knew that his oh-so-common smirk was on his face. He knew he won, for now. "Can I get a coffee, black?"

"Can I get a coffee with room to add cream and sugar?" I piped up quickly before Dean left me sitting here without a drink or something.

"Oh, and some of that pie, too, while you're at it," Dean added as Scotty acknowledged our requests with a nod before he wandered off to get the stuff. We then walked over to the table right next to the couple, which if I was that couple and I saw that out of all the other empty tables in the place, some strangers decide to sit right _next_ to me, I'd be like "_the hell is wrong with you_?" but that's just me. Anyways, Dean walked over to the table right next to them and pulled out a chair for me – yeah, he can be a gentleman – before falling into his own. "How ya doin'?" he half waved with a bent arm to the couple. I smiled kindly and pulled my chair closer to the side of the table as the couple waved and smiled in response. "Just passing through?" Dean continued.

The woman finished chewing her food and sipped her drink before turning and nodding her head. "Road trip."

"Us too!" I responded excitedly, trying to act like we could gush about all the _amazing_ things that we had in common. Scotty suddenly appeared, refilling their glasses. And there was still no coffee or pie in front of me. The hell? I'm pretty sure we ordered coffee and Dean drooled over pie.

The couple thanked Scotty who continued to pour their drinks and looked back and Dean and me, appearing upset. "I'm sure these people want to eat in peace."

How are they _not_ eating in peace? I mean, it's not like Dean and I crawled in next to them at the table and started picking fries off their plates or something. We were just being nice, like most small towns are rumored to be. Damn, Scotty. Go sprinkle some _Miracle-Gro_ on your pancakes and pray that you quickly get some happiness to pop through the gloom. Just as my brows lowered and my hand raised so that my gestures could match whatever words were going to be flying from between my lips, Dean cut me off. It's probably wise that he did. My dislike for being treated like that probably wouldn't have gone over very well. "Just a little friendly conversation," Dean told him calmly, shrugging it all off.

Scotty lowered his brows and stalked off to me calling out, "Oh, and that coffee, too, man!" I made sure to have my voice echo around the room. Dean's quick kick to my shin not only made me smack my knee on the underside of the table, but also made me cough out a, "Thanks!" that I hadn't intended to put there before. I'm guessing by the look on Scotty's face though, that he did not appreciate how polite of a person I am! Looking at me like he wants to yell in my face or something. Try it, Scotty. Let's see how far you get with the squirrel monkey and her mammoth of a brother.

"So," Dean said drawing my attention from Scotty back to the couple beside us, "what brings you to town?"

"We just stopped for gas," the girl answered politely. "And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives."

I caught Dean's eyes and furrowed my brows. "Is that right?" I questioned, not really sure where this was going to be going. They didn't seem to be recovering from any mortal peril or anything, so how could this man have saved their lives?

The guy swallowed his food and cleared his throat, turning to face me with a small nod. "Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us," he told us as he held up a fork and pointed through the glass on the door to the car in the distance.

Dean shifted in his chair, sticking one hand on his hip while his other rested on the table and slightly clenched. "Nice people," he managed to say fairly calmly through a tight jaw.

"Yeah," the man agreed as he sipped his drink and smiled at the lady. They were clearly enjoying just being together, and I think they were having a moment. It was actually a little adorable and I found myself smiling just because of it.

"So, how long 'til you're up and runnin'?" Oh, Dean, ruining moments since I turned 12 and had my first kiss. Sigh.

_ Sniffing the air, it definitely smelled like rain was going to be coming, and soon. I didn't know if that would be good or bad, because I think I remembered my dad saying something about needing good weather to be able to track whatever he was after this week. He wasn't too far away, maybe an hour or two, maybe not even that. But his distance away from us didn't change the fact that I was sitting here, bored out of my mind on these bleachers right now. I would be on my way home, except Sam had been super persistent in talking to someone about soccer or something equally boring to me. I wanted to go back to the motel. And I wanted to go now. Normally I wouldn't care if we took the longest time in the world to get back to the motel, but today was different. Today, I was trying to avoid Joshua. Joshua, who was one of four Joshua's in my class, had told Matthew, who told Sarah, who told Steven, who told Jennifer who told _me_ that he _liked_ me, liked me. Do you know what that means!? That means that Joshua is going to die. Yep, done for, dead, soon to have a corpse to cry over. Dean told me, ages ago, like, back when I was ten or something, that if he ever found out a boy liked me like that or did anything to or with me, he'd kill him. He didn't go into a whole lot of detail about it; all I know is that when I said I liked a boy at one of our schools he flipped and said boys were dumb, to never trust any boy except him and Dad and Sam, and that if I touched one, I would die. I just about had a heart attack when I played tag the next day. I have not mentioned me secretly wishing that a boy liked me since. I mean, I cannot just have some boy's death be my fault! But of course, today, _the_ day, the day that Joshua told Matthew who told Sarah, who told Steven, who told Jennifer, who told me that he, Joshua that is, wanted to meet me after school and ask me to the sixth grade dance, was the day Sam needed to find out if he could join the soccer team. Things never ever go right, do they?_

_ Sighing and kicking over Sam's book bag with the side of my foot, I mumbled under my breath at how mean he was being. Telling me that I had to sit there because he was older and Dad said that oldest is in charge and I hate being the youngest. But anyway, I kicked over Sam's book bag as people started coming onto the bleachers to watch the practices, and I just about screamed when I heard someone call my name._

_ "Hey, Becca," Joshua said standing next to Sam's knocked over bag and staring down at me._

_ My eyes were super round as I looked over to Sam who didn't even notice what was going on, up to Joshua's face. "H-hey, Josh-Joshua," I tripped over my words. This was not good._

_ Joshua shifted the bag on his shoulder and bounced around on his feet a little bit. "Um, do you think I could sit next to you?" I don't know why my head nodded and I reached over to pick up Sam's bag, but I did. And then I started to sweat. "What'd, what'd you think of Matt's prank he played on Jimmy today?" he beamed at the memory._

_ Matt had gone and put one of those fake wiggly rubber fishing worms into Jimmy's sandwich during lunch. When Jimmy bit into it, he screamed and tipped over in his chair, hitting his head so hard that he had to go down to the nurse, and we had all gotten in trouble and had to write "I will not play pranks" enough times to fill both sides of a piece of paper… in cursive. "My hand hurt afterwards," I admitted, not really meeting his eyes._

_ "Yeah," he agreed through one of those smiles, "mine too. Too bad about Jimmy's head though, huh?"_

_ "Yeah, too bad," I repeated._

_ "Yeah…" We both sat in awkward silence, while I secretly screamed for Sam to come save me. "So, uh, I was talking to Jennifer earlier, with Matt, and we were talking about the sixth grade dance next week and uh, Matt and Jennifer are going, and they're trying to, uh, you know, get a big group of people together, and we're all gonna match, and Jennifer had mentioned that uh, you know, since you were new in town that you didn't have a whole lot of friends besides your brother, and I mean, he can come too, but uh, we'd have to find someone to go with him, but uh, do you, do you maybe want to go with me… as my date?"_

_ I turned to look at him blankly, blinking a couple of times. Shaking my head, I couldn't really get anything out of what he had just rambled off. "What?" I dipped my head a little low, confusion clear on my face._

_ Joshua inhaled and exhaled deeply, dropping his bag from his shoulder onto the bench next to him. "Do you want to go with me to the sixth grade dance?"_

_ Oh. That was what I thought he said. Crap. I didn't know what to do. I liked Joshua, he was super nice, and he even acted nice to Sam, which a lot of kids didn't do, because he was so smart and quiet. So I that made me like Joshua even more. But I didn't want the kid to die. That wouldn't be very nice at all. "I don't know if I'll still be here for the dance," I told him honestly. "We could move before then, you know?" He bit his lip and nodded his head, and I felt really bad. I expelled a large puff of air. "But, uh," I had to make it better, "if um, if we're still in town, sure, I can go with you. I mean, I will probably have to make sure Sam comes, and it's gonna have to be a secret, but, yeah."_

_ Joshua's face lit up and he smiled at me. "Becca, you are the _coolest_! You really want to go with me?"_

_ I smiled back, "Uh, I guess," I laughed._

_ Joshua stayed and talked with me some more while Sam did whatever he was doing out on the field. With each passing moment, my fear for Joshua's life was growing less and less. What had Dean been talking about? Boys were not all evil, I mean, Joshua hadn't tried to eat my face or anything in the last however long, so he couldn't be bad, right? He'd even told me that he thought I was pretty. And no boy had ever told me that before. I was definitely blushing when he scooted closer. I don't know when the conversation switched from our teacher looking like a squirrel that wears glasses, but it did. And before I knew it, we were both facing each other, smiling like dorks, and I was trying to slap the tops of his hands while our palms touched._

_ "You let me hit you!" I accused as he didn't even try to pull away from my movement._

_ He shook his head and flipped his hands so that his palms were up. I gave him a questioning look and laid my palms on his, ready to pull away, even though I know he cheated. He attempted to smack my hands a few times, and we heard more people starting to walk onto the bleachers, but we ignored them. On the fourth or fifth time, he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and pulled me forward, connecting his lips on mine. My eyes went wide, not understanding, and before they could close or I could even sort of figure out anything, Joshua's hands disappeared from around my wrists, and his lips were gone from mine._

_ I looked up from where Joshua had just been, and I saw his shirt collar being held in the air while he struggled against the arm that was causing him to dangle a couple inches off of the bleacher step. "Let him go, Dean!" I yelled, standing up and attempting to get to Dean's arm that was holding Joshua like a piñata._

_ "Dean?" Joshua squeaked out. "This is your _brother_, Dean?" Biting my lip, I gave up fighting and nodded my head, a little embarrassed. "You didn't say he was so, so, so _big_!"_

_ "Yeah, well, did she tell you how I don't like anyone touching her?" Dean asked angrily as he turned to look at Joshua._

_ Joshua seemed to swallow audibly as Sam came running up the stairs, followed by a few other onlookers. "Dean, put him down," Sam seethed as he tried to stop any more attention being drawn to us._

_ Dean looked from Sam's pleading face, to my guilty and pleading face, to Joshua's terrified face, and then the faces of all the onlookers before he slowly lowered Joshua down so his feet were almost touching the bleachers once more. Dropping Joshua down, probably a bit roughly, Dean turned on him and ordered him to get lost. I know that if we hadn't been surrounded by so many people, that he would have had few more words to say to the kid. Joshua didn't hesitate to grab his bag and bolt down the bleachers so fast that I don't think he actually touched the ground. I watched as Joshua sped off towards one of the goal posts, and cut across the field. The crowd around us was slowly going away, and I mean slowly. I looked from Joshua's running form over to Dean's angry face, and I glared at him. Picking up my bag, I swung it over my shoulder and stomped my way past Dean and Sam._

_ I didn't make it too far away from the bleachers before I heard, "Hey! Hey! Where do you think you're goin'?" being shouted at me from where Dean and Sam were following. I ignored them, angry at Dean for being such a jerk, and continued to stomp my way towards the motel that I was cursed to have to share with them. I was half way past the next section of bleachers when Dean yelled, "You wanna turn around and talk to me here, Bec?"_

_ Spinning on my heel, I could see that the movement surprised both Sam and Dean who were still pretty far back. "Why would I want to talk to you!? You're just a big, a big, _jerk_! You, you jerk!"_

_ Dean seemed taken aback by my outburst. "What? No. I told you what would happen if you started messin' with boys and you go suckin' face with one in front of the whole school!"_

_ "I did not! _He_ kissed _me_, and I didn't even know he was going to. And you just barged in like a freak! You scared him off!"_

_ "Good!" Dean yelled back at me._

_ I wanted to scream. He was so insensitive to everything! "AHH!" I shrieked with a high pitched yell and multiple stomps of my feet to the pavement, just like when I was younger and would throw a fit. "YOU. RUIN. EVERYTHING!" my high voice continued with each word before I spun once more and stomped my entire way to the motel, fists clenched at my side._

My body twitched back to the present as the man at the table answered Dean's question. "Sundown."

Dean looked over at me, and I saw that, "_that's not right_" look cross his face. I furrowed my brows, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "Really?" he questioned, thinking about it. "To fix a brake line?" I watched as the man nodded. "I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn't charge you anything."

The couple looked skeptical. "He's being modest," I spoke up. "He's really more like a genius with cars. I can't even begin to tell you the things I've seen him do. You should really give him a chance," I smiled towards the couple as I talked my brother up. And I wasn't really lying either. Dean really can do amazing things with cars. I've seen him fix things faster than any other human. And he's really dedicated with it, too, super perfectionist about it. Do we need to talk about the way that the Impala looked after I hit that deer? Man, it was bad, and Dean fixed the car so well, that you can't even tell I did it. It's like he has a car fixing super power or something. Like he's "Car Man" or "Impala Boy" something… I don't know. Okay, those are lame names, but you get what I'm saying.

"You know, thanks a lot, but I think we'd rather have a mechanic do it," the lady answered.

I felt my smile and brows instantly drop to create my, "_you're effing kidding me right now, right_" face. "Well, our dad was a mechanic. Owned his own shop and everything. Passed on everything he knows. So you're really not gonna get better service than what my brother's willing to offer you."

"No, it's okay," Dean cut in before anyone could respond. "I know what you mean," he told the couple. "You know, it's just that these roads. They're not real safe at night."

The couple looked at each other. It seemed like they didn't really know whether they could trust us or not, and then the girl eyed Dean a little unsure. "I'm sorry?" she asked.

"We know it sounds strange, but, uh – you might be in danger," he stated.

The hell is he doing!? That is one way to put it, just lay it on the line why don't you, Dean? I slapped a hand to my forehead before dragging it back through my hair. I couldn't really even look at the couple without saying something. I feel like we could have done this so differently. Sigh. The man's voice drew my attention back to them though, because he was clearly annoyed and getting frustrated with Dean as he said, "Look, we're trying to eat. Okay?"

Raising my brows I looked from the very "threatening" man to Dean. Was this guy for real? Please, _try_ to take on Dean. I want to see this happen.

"Yeah," Dean sighed a little bit disappointed. All right, I don't even think I know what's going on right now. Sure, we're supposed to be trying to get this couple out of town safely, but isn't he laying it on just a little bit thick? This guy never has this many emotions in one conversation. Trust me. "You know," he did that happy-snort-scoff thing as a sad smile started to creep onto his face, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you'd just buy right into it." He looked at me and shifted his eyes from my face over to the couple. What the hell is he doing? I saw his brows furrow and he did the eye thing again.

Oh! Okay, yeah, now I get it. Puppy dog look. Right, I'm on it. I looked over to my right, and I saw the guy eyeing me. I lightly licked my lips and stuck out my bottom one just a little bit further than my top. Biting at the very far corner of my lip I looked up at him with as big of eyes as I could muster, and I tried to look both innocent and sincerely worried. I can't tell you if it actually worked or not though, because the door jingled behind me and the guy looked from my face over to whoever walked in. Before I could see who was standing behind me, Scotty came out of the back, and greeted whoever it was with a hand shake.

"Thanks for coming, Sheriff," I heard Scotty say. _Sheriff_? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, this is not okay. My attempt at a puppy dog face immediately changed to my "_we need to get the eff up out of here now_" face, and Dean looked just as upset. Next thing I know, there are two hands propping up a bent over body on the table between Dean and me, and I look up to see that, yep, we're about to be arrested. Jiminy Friggen Cricket.

"I'd like a word, please. With both of you," the sheriff told us, strictly.

Now, because we are Winchesters, we just stood up and followed the sheriff out of the café no problem. Just kidding. We don't do that. Well, I might have if Dean wasn't here, just because I don't think I'm totally capable of getting away with as much if I'm alone. Maybe. You know, there really is no telling. But that is not what I was talking about. If you want to hear about people who _aren't_ stubborn, you are totally listening to the wrong girl. Instead, Dean groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Come on. We're having a bad day already."

"You know what would make it worse?" the sheriff pushed. Yep. Definitely going to jail.

Actually, we didn't. We instead were led out of the café and "scolded" about how our kind wasn't welcomed and we needed to put as many miles as humanly possible between this town and our feet. We were then told if we didn't leave we'd be introduced to the jail cell and a whole bunch of other super common crap that we're really told all the effing time. So, much to the town's satisfaction, Dean was driving us down the interstate and out of this town. It was about ten miles outside of the city limits when Dean finally relaxed in his seat and slouched down a little. "He's gone," he announced, giving me my cue to turn over and face the back seat and dig around in the bags for everything we'd need.

* * *

So, just like I said it would happen, we were rolling back towards Burkitsville, Indiana, in the middle of the night. We're totally on track here for the daily routine. Except we didn't make it back to Burkitsville, oh no. We made it to the scary orchard where Leather Face lives, and then we saw that same red van sitting on the side of the road. Huh, guess who totally saw that one coming. Dean pulled over behind the van and we immediately bolted from the car, weapons in hand – you're welcome, Dean – and headed towards where we remembered Leather Face's cross thing to be.

"Dean," I called out as we were speeding through the area we'd found earlier. I had stopped, looking at where the scarecrow should have been. I say "_should_" because it wasn't there anymore. "The scarecrow is gone," I said between breathes.

Dean panted with me, and cocked his gun. "Yeah, and I bet I know who he's looking for. Come on."

We started running through the orchard once more, coming just to the outside of the clearing when we ran into the couple from the diner. It's like we're just having a night of reunions.

"Go back to your car," Dean ordered to them.

Instead of immediately moving like normal, sane people, they looked behind them, and wouldn't you know it. Leather Face was coming for them.

"Go! Go!" I yelled, stepping behind them and shoving them forward. They finally got the idea and took off towards the cars. Dean was behind me, shooting at Leather Face. I turned around, pulling up my own gun and saw Leather Face was continuing to walk towards us. Crap. Cocking my gun, I aimed with Dean and shot towards the scarecrow. I don't know if I hit him or not, but he stumbled from some sort of impact. But he didn't stop. The scarecrow kept coming, and I didn't like that. My arm hurt from that kick and there was nothing to even show for it, I mean, come on! That was a good shot, right!? Ugh.

Dean turned to me and yelled for me to run, and I took off. Not took _off_, took off, but I ran, making sure to keep close enough that if Dean needed me, I would be there to try and help. As I was running, Dean continued to shoot behind us before he caught up to me, yelling, "_Go! Go!"_ and pushing me forward. I don't know how long it took for us to get to the clearing outside of the orchard that met the road, but the couple was only a couple feet ahead of us when we reached it, and thankfully, the Impala. That thing is like a Godsend, seriously. Always there to whisk me away to safety when I need it to. Once I got next to the couple, I turned around and faced where the scarecrow had been and aimed my gun towards it… except there was nothing there. Leather Face was gone. I looked to Dean, curious if I was just seeing things. "Where is he?" I panted to my brother.

The guy came over before Dean could answer. "What – what the hell was that?" he said between breathes, clearly scared.

"Don't ask," Dean told him before setting the safety on his gun. "We need to get out of here. Now."

I didn't hesitate to take the keys from Dean's hand and pop the trunk, grabbing the "toolbox" that sat in it. Dean removed his jacket and got the jack out of the back of the van from the guy, and gave him that look that said, "_next time I offer to fix your car, let me fix your car_". Yeah, something tells me they're gonna be a little more skeptical to take a mechanic's word. While Dean fixed their "faulty" brake line, I stood guard, my gun pointed towards the woods, and the guy, Steve, stood next to me holding Dean's gun. I didn't know if Steve would be that reliable in being able to shoot if he needed to, but if all we had was me, I was willing to take my chances. The lady, whose name I didn't know, was holding the light for Dean, helping him under the car. The minute their van was fixed, we packed them up, and sent them on their way. Shockingly, they didn't hesitate this time. Dean and I didn't really hesitate and stick around to see if the scarecrow would show back up either, but we didn't head into Burkitsville. We instead found a vacant field thing and Dean parked the car. Awesome.

* * *

I was sitting in the backseat, leaning against the one door, my feet crossed and legs stretched out in front of me, while Dean sat in the front seat, facing me, leaning on the opposite side of the car. We'd pretty much decided to sleep in the Impala instead of checking into some motel in Burkitsville. I'd say it the safe move. "Ugh, my brain hurts," I told him as I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I don't know how much more stuff we can possibly find, since we don't have any open libraries, or a laptop. Sam took that with him when he left. And Dean and I aren't cool enough to have Blackberries or anything, we kind of have pay-as-you-go phones.

"Relax," he sighed as he continued to flip through Dad's journal while some music sifted quietly through the air. "Here," he flipped the journal around and faced it towards me.

Moving all of the papers where I'd written our notes and stuff off of my lap, I took the journal and looked at it. Nothing was jumping at out me. "What am I looking at?" I questioned.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes as he took the journal back. He eyed me a few times before he inhaled with raised brows and this eye thing that said, "_I can't believe I claim to know you_", and then looked down at the page he'd been trying to show me. "Dad talked about something similar to this on a past case. The couples being killed, the repeat killings, the benefits it brings…" he trailed off and looked at me, only to receive a blank stare and about six blinks. "It's a _god_, Becca, Jesus Christ," he clipped the book shut, "how are you still alive?"

"I owe it all to an overprotective brother," I smiled as he shoved a map at me. "What's this for?" I asked as I took the map and unfolded it before laying it on the seat in front of me.

"Try and find a local college or something, somewhere where we can go and maybe find some more information on this freaky bastard," he instructed.

Nodding, I puckered my lips and scrunched them to the side of my face as I took a pen and drew a dark circle around Burkitsville. I got lost in the map, using my full proof method of figuring out mileage and shortcuts and all that jazz. I might not be good at shooting, or aiming, or you know, _hunting_, but you do learn some things being stuck in a motel while the rest of your family is out slaying dragons. Not real dragons… that I know of… hmm… Anyway, I was a master of maps, no lie. I pretty much learned how to read these puppies at the age of three, before I could read a book. When we needed a good escape, Dad came to me. It felt nice to be needed more than Dean and Sam for once. I would stay back and study maps, and preparing the first aid kit. I am totally awesome at first aid. You kind of have to be when you're the only one not bleeding on the bed. Not even Sam can stitch like me. Bam. I have skills.

Folding the map to form a square of just the necessary areas, I got on my knees and leaned over the seat, slapping Dean with it. "All right, I got it. Here," I handed him the map after he jolted awake from his light snooze. "The nearest place is a community college. It's not too far, and should only take a couple hours. If we want, we can probably leave in the morning and still be good.

Studying my drawn out route Dean then placed the map on the dash next to him. "Good job, Bec," he yawned before settling back into his stupor and closing his eyes.

I cleared off the back seat before reaching across the back of the front seat and turned the key so that the radio and car battery both shut off. "Don't worry, Dean," I sighed, "I got it."

"Don't touch my car," he grunted before a small smile appeared on his face and the car was submerged in darkness as I reached up and clipped off the overhead light. Slipping back onto my seat, I threw myself into a laying position before crying out in pain. "What'd you do?" Dean sighed more out of me hurting myself again than anything else.

"I fell on the buckle and it smacked that pelvic slash hip bone thing," I whined through an exaggerated pout and cry.

"You know, I'm amazed you're not locked up in a padded room somewhere," he told me as he adjusted himself into a laying position on the front seat. Thanks for the concern, bro.

* * *

"Stop climbin' over the seats!" Dean growled the next morning as I moved from the back seat to the front, while he shifted the car and pulled back out onto the blacktop. We had stopped for coffee, and gotten someone to help us figure out the number to the college we were headed to, and made an appointment so that someone could hopefully help us figure this all out. "Hand me my phone, would ya?" he asked after a couple minutes had passed. I grumbled, digging around on the floor for it from where he'd tossed it earlier, and slapped it into his hand, receiving a look. He stuck his thumb against a key, and held the phone up to his ear. Rolling my eyes, I tried to find something to entertain myself. It was gonna be a few hours before we reached that college, even if it was the closest one. Then I heard the one word I was not expecting. "Sammy!" Dean enthusiastically voiced into the phone.

Did I say Dean ruined moments before? Yeah, he's awesome at ruining moods. He should get an award for ruining moods. I crossed my arms and grumbled, staring into the scenery through the window. I didn't want to hear the banter between them, because that meant that they were pretending Sam hadn't walked out. No. He walked out, again. But, because the Impala isn't the size of a football field, I get to hear everything. I get to hear the comments about "_this guy Scotty who is lacking a personality_" and "_driven out of town_" and "_making Becca freak out_" and _"cute gas station attendant_" which all lead to "_Leather Face_". Dean told Sam everything we'd gone through, and in my personal opinion, if Sam wanted to know, he should have been here. He didn't deserve the story if he didn't want to read the book. Does that make sense? What sucked though, was I was only getting the one side of the conversation… Or I thought I was only getting it, until Dean hit the speaker phone button and nudged me to take the phone from him. I did so, but reluctantly.

"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam asked from his side of the line. I wonder if he knows that he's on speaker phone…

"Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun Town," Dean sarcastically replied. I shot him a look which was a cross between a sarcastic grin and a full smile.

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?" I heard through the phone.

Rolling my eyes, I answered. "No, Sam. We can cope without you, you know," I told him. I didn't want to answer him, but it came naturally. Damn him and that effect.

Apparently he didn't care that I said _anything_ because he just skipped right over it. "So, something must be animating it. A spirit."

"See, Dean, he didn't figure it out right away either!" I complained.

"No," Dean sighed, eyeing me, "it's more than a spirit. It's a god. A Pagan god, anyway."

Sam didn't seem convinced. "What makes you say that?"

"Because Dean knows everything," I retorted.

"Stop talking," Dean told me. "But, Sam, the annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman-"

"Like some kind of fertility right!" I jumped in, finally clicking pieces together.

Dean nodded, and I beamed. I got it now. See, I'm freaking smart. "And you should see the locals, Sammy. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin' 'em up like a Christmas turkey."

I remembered the scene of Scotty putting pie in front of them and repeatedly filling their glasses… with apple cider OH MY GOD. This was making so much more sense. "The last meal," Sam suggested. "Given to sacrificial victims."

"Yeah, I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god," Dean told him.

"A Pagan god revolving around _apples_," I told them.

Dean eyed me, not really sure what was swirling around in my mind right now. "So a god possesses the scarecrow…" Sam started from the other side of the line. Talk about ruining a moment. Dean and I were having a brainstorming session right now, Sam. Come back later!

"And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice," Dean focused back on the call with Sam. "And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and the disease won't spread."

"Do you know which god you're dealing with?" Sam questioned.

Scoffing, I looked at the phone and pretended it was Sam's face as I gave it my, "_you're crazy_" face. "No, not yet."

I could almost see Sam's smile. Damn him. "Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it." Very true, Sam, very, very true.

"We know," Dean cut in. "We're actually on our way to a local community college –"

"You're welcome," I added.

"Yeah… We've got an appointment with a professor. You know, since we don't have our trusty sidekick, Geek Boy, to do all the research."

I smiled. "You know," Sam said through a chuckle, "if you're hinting you need my help, just ask."

What? Hinting we need his help? I'm pretty sure we were doing just fine all by ourselves. I shook my head back and forth, indicating I didn't want Dean to bring back Sam. I had to prove to myself that we could do this without him. "I'm not hinting anything. Actually, uh – I want you to know… I mean, don't think…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," Sam's apology hung in the air.

I wasn't about to apologize, so if that's what everyone was waiting for, they can stay waiting. I don't think I actually _had_ anything to apologize for. Am I wrong? No. I'm not. "Sam, you were right," Dean told him after the brief pause.

"What!? No he wasn't!" I quickly argued, forgetting for a moment that Sam was even on the phone.

"You gotta do your own thing," Dean continued after snatching the phone back from me and hitting the speaker phone button again to turn it off. "You gotta live your own life," he finished as he put the phone against his ear.

Oh shove a sock in it, Dean. Being all, "_do your own thing, live your own life, blah blah blah_". I know for a _fact_ that if I had wanted to be the one to walk out that Dean would have told me I couldn't. He would have gone on about how I owe it to him to stay and help. And he had every right to tell me that, because I did owe it to him to stay and help. He'd done enough for me to return the favor.

"You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have." What is this "_remember when_" day or something? How is going over the dramatics that Sam put us all through a good thing? "Hell, I wish I – anyway… I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

My eyes and face fell. Dean was proud of Sam for leaving us? For breaking up and denying the family? What did that mean for me? Was he angry that I didn't? That I stayed back and did what I was told? God, talk about a roller coaster of emotions.

"Say you'll take care of yourself," I heard Dean tell Sam, and I started to pick at the edge of my cast. So it was final then. Sam wasn't coming back at all. That was officially good-bye. "Call me when you find Dad." There was a click and Dean stuck the phone in his pocket before looking at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, biting my lip. I had to be okay with it, right? Well, if I wasn't yet, I will be. I'll make sure of that.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-five.**

**All right, so I am running late, and wanted to make sure this got up before I left for work tonight, so this A/N might be short and sweet.**

**This chapter however, is not. It's extra long because I have included a big piece that I know a bunch of you have been waiting for, and you have been patient and I owe you. The end of the transcript for the episode might seemed rushed, but I really wanted to get to the other part, so I hope you still enjoy it.**

**I didn't proofread, I have 5 min to get ready and walk out my door for work, and I'm still in pajamas.**

**Sorry about the lack of updates. It's been busy. I've been cleaning houses for grandmas who had surgeries, babysitting, running errands, helping with weddings, and my computer has been glitchy. I hope this all loads, and that you guys are all super understanding. I love you all.**

**I don't know if anyone saw it or not, but there was a comment made in the review section about the fact that Dean and Sam do not have a sister in the series. I know that that person who left the comment probably isn't even reading this, but I felt it needed to be addressed, so I have done so on my Profile. So go ahead and feel free to read that.**

**A million thanks to the readers/reviewers/PMers/adders. You continue to blow me away each time! I cannot handle the excitement you guys give me.**

**Prayers to those still be attacked by tornadoes in Oklahoma. Stay strong. I am sending you all my good juju.**

**Extra thanks to Jenmm31 who has crazy helped on this chapter. And SPNxBookworm. You guys rock like no other.**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.  
Also! There may be some lines in this chapter that could possibly offend some readers. That is not my intentions and doesn't actually reflect my own beliefs. Please know it's strictly for writing.**

* * *

Ah, college. Breathe it in. Mmm. Can't you just _smell_ the intelligence swimming around the place? Great place, college. Higher studies. Parties. New friends. Achieving independence from your parents, well, unless your parents fund everything. You're not really independent then are you? Still… It can be a fabulous place, I'm told. And I would say that it _is_ a fabulous place. Considering last time I ended up being super popular and didn't even attend classes there! Ooh, I bet I can make Dean stop at a sorority. I'll play Frisbee while he corrupts girls. Sounds like plan to me.  
"It's not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology," the professor of Religious Studies was telling us. Right, I forgot. We're here for a case. My bad. Anyway. We'd made the appointment to see this guy specifically because I guess Religious Studies isn't super popular and taught at a lot of places. Not here anyway. He's like, _the_ teacher to talk to I guess.

Dean and I had met him in one of those lecture hall things or whatever, like the last time, when we were all asking questions about those nasty bugs. But right now, we were following down a bunch of stairs to his office, so that we could "dive deeper" into the ideology. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby," Dean replied to the professor with a _bunch _of sarcasm. I don't know if the professor didn't grasp it or not, but trust me, twenty-two years with this kid, and you know his sarcasm.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" the professor continued as he led us through the building. We hummed out an "_Mmhmm_" at the same time, earning a small smile from the professor. "I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its Pagan worship," he told us. He actually sounded a little bit disappointed that he couldn't tell us.

I looked over to Dean. He was so sure that it was a Pagan god, and the way he had laid it all out early, I mean, he seemed pretty right in the assumption. But then again, Dean manages to appear right when he's crazy wrong, so who really knows. This guy confuses me more than Calculus, and I never even _took_ Calculus. But, I did take Social Studies and U.S. History. "Well, what if it was imported?" I chanced, earning a couple curious glances. "Yeah, you know," I continued, gaining confidence as I sped up to walk next to the professor down the stairs, "like the Pilgrims brought their religion. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

"Well, yeah," the professor responded with that "duh" tone while Dean rolled his eyes at my last comment. Fine. Whatever. If you don't count the areas were the Native American Indians all lived, I guess every area was settled by immigrants essentially. Whatever.

"Right," I sighed. "But I meant like, that town near here, Burkitsville. Do you know where their ancestors are from?"

The professor took a moment, thinking about it. "Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia," he finally answered.

See, my questions ended up being smart after all. "Sweet! What could you tell us about _those_ Pagan gods?" I pressed as we finally made it to the floor his office was on.

He chuckled a little, like that, "_you really have no idea_" chuckle. The one where it's like the person obviously knows more than you. "Well, there _are_ hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses."

I dropped my lids a little bit. "_Well_," I drawled out, "we're actually looking for _one_ –"

"It might live in an orchard," Dean told him as the professor pulled out a set of keys and unlocked his office door.

Holding up a finger and shaking it slightly. "I might have a book here that can help us," he responded. He walked over to a large wall of shelves, filled with books and folders, and so many thick binders. He pulled out a giant tan book that looked like it was decades old and had these brass things on the corners for decorations and stuff. Now _this_ is a book. "Woods god, hm?" he hummed as he opened the book and started to flip through the pages as he laid it on the desk. I stood on one side, watching the pictures fly by as he passed them.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean stopped the professor from the other side of the professor. "What's that one?"

I waited for the professor to lay the page back down so I could see the picture of the god I'd missed. Man, I super suck. "Oh, that's not a woods god, per se."

"Oh?" I questioned in an uprising tone. "What is it then?" I studied the writing on the opposite page. "The V-Vanir? What's that?" I looked up at the professor, waiting for him to tell me.

Dean took up reading where I'd left off. "_The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in the fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female._" Dean then tapped the picture with his finger before look at the man between us. "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

The professor mumbled out an, "_I suppose_" before I took up reading the quote under the picture of the pumpkin headed looking thing. "What does it mean _"This particular Vanir that's energy sprung from the sacred tree_"?"

"Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic," the professor answered.

So this wasn't a god, but instead a magical energy from a tree… What? How does that work? Wait, wait wait… So does that mean that Leather Face is real? Or is he just some _thing _that isn't even really real? Ugh, my brain hurts. "So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?"

If I had been drinking water, I would have just spit it out all over this guy's book. Dean seriously just asked, "_What would happen if the sacred tree was torched_". To a professor. Like an idiot. Do you know how hard it was for me to not gawk at Dean? Really hard. And I failed. And the professor laughed in his face. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing," he told him.

"_Yeah_, they're just legends," I mocked.

"Of course," Dean sighed, looking a little embarrassed. Hahahahaha. Sucker. "Yeah, you're right. Listen, thank you very much," Dean grabbed the professor's hand and shook it.

"Glad I could help," I the professor responded as I smiled and also held out a hand for him to shake.

We started towards the door of the room, and before Dean even got the door opened all the way, he fell to the ground. Just collapsed! I went to yell, when a hand clapped over my mouth and I felt my arms pinned to my sides. I looked from Dean's crumpled form to the doorway, and there stood the same sheriff from earlier, a rifle raised in the air, the butt still lingering in the spot where it'd connected with Dean's skull. My eyes widened and I shook my head as much as I could. What the hell was happening?! The professor looked from Dean, to me, and started walking towards where the professor, or back stabbing jerk ass face, was holding me. I started to try and pry myself away from the hands on my arms and my mouth, and just as I bit the professor's fingers, the sheriff pulled back his gun. "You son of a –".

* * *

I stuck the heel of my left hand to the side of my head, feeling a super sore bump. "Ugh, I hope they all get rabies," I grumbled as I squinted my eyes even further shut. My head absolutely killed right now, and where ever I was, was _not_ the Ritz. I'll tell you that much. It was cold, and damp, and felt like dirt. Dear God, I'm buried. "Dean?" I moaned out as I rolled onto my side and felt that I wasn't actually buried in a box six feet down. Which is good, because that would be unfortunate. "You alive?"

"Mornin', sunshine," he grumbled from somewhere near my feet.

"Bite me," I mumbled as I slowly picked myself up off the ground, so that I was on my knees and not my side, and opened my eyes. All right, so I _am_ underground. And it's dark, I can't see anything. But I feel dirt underneath me. And I don't know where I am, besides in the ground. Great. With my luck I'm probably locked in some human sized kennel with Dean. For eternity. This is gonna get really old, really quick. I saw the outline of my cell mate sitting on a rock or something, and I rolled from where I was kneeling to lean my back against it, my back to his side. So now I'm in a kennel, with rocks for furniture. "How long have we been here?"

I heard Dean run a hand over his face, and then fold his hands together before leaning his arms forward on his knees while I stretched out my legs and back. "No clue."

Perfect. "I hate small town cops," I told him as I stood up.

"I just hate cops," he responded, as he watched me stretch out my entire body. God, where had they put me, a trunk? I have slept on the floor in the middle of the woods and felt better than this after. What the heck is this ground made of?

I snorted at the comment. "We gotta get out of here," I told him.

Holy crap. It's like I said "Open sesame" or something, because the minute I finished my sentence, the door in the ceiling opened. But instead of a lovely bearded man with open arms and a smile, welcoming us, we got the old couple from the general store who looked angry. And they were coming down, shoving that Emily girl ahead of them.

"Aunt Stacy. Uncle Harley, please," Emily cried as the struggled down towards us. I looked from where they practically threw her into us, to where they were walking back up the stairs to the sheriff who had a gun pointed down towards where our small crowd was now gathered. "Why are you doing this?"

Stacy turned around at the top and held the door in her hand while staring at us. "For the common good," she stated, and then slammed the door shut, covering us in total blackness.

* * *

I was standing next to Emily, arms crossed over my chest, filling her in on everything that had been happening in this town. Dean was trying to get the door to the cellar, yeah, turns out I'm in a cellar… in the ground. Anyway, Dean trying to get the cellar door open while I finished up with how her lovely protector of the law beat my brother and me with his gun, kidnapped us, and then stashed us away like prisoners.

"Dean, you're gonna pop a shoulder or something, and I'm not gonna be able to pop it back in. Give it a rest, would ya?" I sighed up to him as he continued to bang against the door with the side of his body.

"I don't understand," Emily interrupted as she shook her head and hugged herself. "They're gonna kill us?"

"Sacrifice us," Dean grunted as he continued to work on the door. "Which is, I don't know, classier, I guess?" he turned to look at me as though asking if that was the correct answer.

I shrugged in response. I guess it's classier. Makes it seem like you have a goal or something, like there's a purpose. Wait, no! I had to make a face in response, bringing myself to look back at Emily as Dean finally came down the stairs. "You really didn't know anything about this, did you?" I asked her.

"About what? The scarecrow god?" she answered with an annoyed, "_you've got to be kidding me_" attitude. "I can't believe this."

"Well, you better start believing," I huffed out at her. "This is real. Your family is trying to feed you to Leather Face. I don't know how much more real this can get for you."

Dean rolled his eyes at me and stuck out an arm before using it to push me back and out of the way. Hey! "We're gonna need your help," he told her.

Emily looked at me over Dean's shoulder and then caught his gaze. "Okay…" she drew out, waiting.

"Now, we can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree," he explained, while I moved to the other side of him, and came to stand so that I could properly talk to Emily again.

"What tree?" she asked, as though this conversation was really just taking up too much of her precious time.

"That's where you come in," I answered for Dean. "The tree's gonna be really old. And everyone would probably treat it like some sort of god or something. With a lot of respect, you know, like it's sacred."

She nodded her head before I even finished the explanation. "There was this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree."

Besides the fact that it has some weirdo name like that, I couldn't help but notice that she mentioned this tree was brought over by the immigrants. Now, my vast Social Studies and U.S. History knowledge doesn't extend to the settlement of the wondrously exciting and club hopping town of Burkitsville, but I'm like, 100% positive it is 2005. That means that this tree has been alive, and freaking killing people with its magical scarecrow Venir thing, for over three hundred years. WHAT.

"Is it in the orchard?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, but I don't know where," Emily frowned.

Before anyone else could move, the cellar door opened and flooded us with light. We all cringed away from the sudden brightness like cockroaches. Dude. We've all been reduced to light fearing bugs. Or vampires. This is so not something that fits in the hunter description. Well, neither does walking, talking, Winchester goddess, but I exist. "It's time," Emily's aunt told us while she stood there surrounded by a bunch of other people from the town. I frowned, not moving my eyes from her while Dean and Emily looked at each other. It wasn't the fact that were now taking me to go be eaten by a scarecrow that made me frown. Like, I knew that was probably coming. But I mean, "_it's time_"? Really? Burkitsville, Indiana can't come up with some sort of line that's just a _tad_ more original?

* * *

"Hey, you know, my arm's already _been_ broken, guy. Wanna try _not_ snapping it again?" I seethed to the man who was struggling to tie me to a tree beside Dean who was in the middle of Emily and me. He apparently didn't like my attitude, because he just tugged on my opposite arm tighter. At least he didn't pull on the broken one. It's the little gestures that make me swoon, you know.

"How many people have you killed, Sheriff?" I heard Dean snarling to the man who'd knocked us out earlier. "How much blood is on your hands?"

The sheriff looked at Dean, "We don't kill them."

I glared at him. "No, but you sure cover up after," I bit, only for the guy struggling to tie my cast pulled tighter on the rope.

"How many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?" Dean continued the anger we held.

The sheriff didn't respond. Instead he turned around and walked way, not even acknowledging we were there anymore. "Uncle Harley, please," I heard Emily beg on the other side of Dean.

"I'm am so sorry, Em. I wish it wasn't you," her uncle told her quietly. I couldn't see his face, but I heard his voice, and I knew that tone. My dad had that tone with me from time to time, when I was in tears for some stupid reason and he didn't know how to fix it.

"Then use me," I offered, bringing Dean's eyes, and Harley's eyes to my face. I didn't hesitate or falter in my gaze, either. If I could save Emily, then I would. "Take her back with you. Leave me for the Venir… thing." Okay, I faltered a little bit.

Harley looked up at Stacy, and Dean turned to look at them both. "Try to understand," Stacy struggled to get out. "It's our responsibility. And there's just no other choice. We don't know that she will be accepted as the sacrifice," she told Emily. What does she mean "_we don't know that she will be accepted as the sacrifice_"? I'm freaking adorable, and I probably taste like marshmallows and cookies. I'd be effing delicious! "She's related to him, they're of the same blood. It could upset the ritual of the sacrifice. There's nobody else but you."

I _seriously_ just offered myself as the somebody to Emily. What was this lady talking about?! "I'm your _family_," Emily said through tears and clenched teeth. My heart broke to see this happening. Her family was leaving her here, to die. To _die_. I could never imagine my family doing that to me, and Sam and Dean both have said they don't like me as much as they like each other. But I mean, even through all of our crap, we would never just do that. I wanted nothing more than to get out of this crazy hold the guy had finally managed to attach me to the tree with, and attack this woman standing there.

"Sweetheart," Stacy said as she ran a hand along Emily's cheek, "that's what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one." Why don't we freaking tie Stacy to this tree? Huh? Because I'm pretty sure she's a woman not related to Dean, and she would really be sacrificing if she offered herself up! I was absolutely fuming as the crowd walked away.

"I HOPE YOUR APPLE PIE IS FREAKIN' WORTH IT!" Dean yelled out after them.

I tugged on my ropes, trying to free my hands as I grumbled out, "If you ever say pie can fix our problems again, I will shove that pie so far up your ass, you'll be burping out metal tins."

Dean shot me a look that I returned and Emily cut into our small moment of trying to set fire to each other via our brains. "So, what's the plan?" she sniffed.

"I'm workin' on it," Dean snapped quickly, more to me, than to her.

* * *

It was getting darker with every passing second, and my frustration was fading into annoyance into mild anger into just not having any more shits to give. I literally felt as though there were just no more positives to anything. I mean, all three of us are tied to these stupid trees. My right arm freaking kills. Sam was gone – again, or still. Dean had no plan. I had no plan. A killer scarecrow would be coming to eat us. I am now hanging in limbo and may or may not become a part of a totally ridiculous and stupid sacrifice. Who the hell still practices Paganism anyway? I still don't know where my dad is outside of California – which is a big ass state; a big ass stat that just so happened to be the location of one Stanford University. Yeah. Don't think I just let _that_ nugget of knowledge float through my cerebellum without a second look. Oh, but the cherry on top of the crap pile that has become my life, is that I'm in the middle of the woods. That's right. Freaking tied to a tree in the woods.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the bark of the tree. It was silent, as though the world has shut off around me – and I was almost thankful. Until I remembered that when the woods are quiet, it means everything on the opposite side of good. Quickly opening my eyes, I threw my head forward. I was praying for a sound, any sound. "Hey." Not that sound. Looking over to catch Dean's eyes, I saw his brows were furrowed. "How you holdin' up?"

I exhaled and felt my body sink deeper into the tree. "Well," I began honestly, "You could probably say I'm in that calm before the storm state. I'm okay now, but shit can hit the fan if you provoke me. Okay, so I guess it's more like poke the bear. I mean, for starters, it's night time, and I'm tied to a tree in the woods, where it's silent, and as always there's a big, scary, stupid monster that might eat me. You realize that we're there for three with this, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"One, the wendigo in Colorado. We were in the woods, and it was quiet, and it tried to eat me – and killed Roy. Two, the bug-pocalypse in Oklahoma, where we found bones, in the woods, but that wasn't quiet… anway. The bugs there tried to eat me, and they did eat those two dudes. And three, attack of the pie god, who lives in the woods, where it's quiet, and where we are tied to trees, so he can eat us. I hate the woods."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned the other way as Emily spoke. "Did all of that really happen?" she asked with a little uncertainty and clear fear.

I didn't miss the angry look that Dean gave for having spilled all of this in front of Emily. "Yeah, yeah, all of it happened," he told her.

"But you guys always get whatever the monster is, right?" Emily posed to no one in particular.

"Huh?" I responded with knitted brows, not really understanding.

She leaned forward to try and see past Dean. "Those monsters you talked about. You guys got them, right? Or you wouldn't be here to fight this one?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, but you gotta understand –"

"So what's the plan?" she cut me off, looking at Dean expectantly. I stared at the back of his head, waiting for his response. "You don't have a plan, do you?" she sighed.

I shuddered as he bit, "I'm workin' on it," in an fearful tone. "Can you see?" If Dean's scared, we should all be scared.

Trying to look around me, I looked left and right, leaning as much as I could. I can't see crap around this tree. "See what?" Emily and I asked at the same time.

Dean's arms were moving around the tree, and I knew he was trying to untie the ropes. "Is he moving yet?"

Straining my eyes the best I could, I bit my lip and shook my head. I couldn't see anything. "I can't see," Emily announced. "Oh my God," she gasped. I whipped my head around, looking for whatever she just saw. "Oh my God!" she shrieked as I saw a shadow growing out of the trees and coming towards us.

Oh my God. I'm dead. I'm going to be eaten by Leather Face, and I don't know where my dad is, and I never got this stupid cast off, and I mean, there's so much I haven't even done with my life! Oh man, and then I never even talked about that fight with, "Sam?" I gasped as he came from around the tree.

"Becca?" he stopped short, seeming just as surprised. "Dean?"

"Oh!" Dean took me by surprise as the joy rang through his voice and totally came through as a giant smile on his face. "Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on." Sam stepped past me and started working on Dean's ropes. "How'd you get here?"

Sam stuttered a little bit, trying not smile as he continued with the ropes. "I, uh – I stole a car."

Aw, Sam is all grown up! I'm so proud. He's turning in to quite the little law breaker isn't he, folks? Brings a tear to my eye. But let's not over look the fact that this kid ditched me again. I fully plan on hitting him again when I get untied. "Haha! That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."

Sam stopped working on Dean's ropes and looked around him, confused. "What scarecrow?"

I looked over at Dean who was standing up, and looking at the cross we'd found earlier. He shot me an "_oh, shit_" look and I started tugging on my ropes like there was no tomorrow. "Why are you just standing around! Untie me!" I yelled to Sam and Dean who immediately snapped into action. The minute the ropes fell from around me, I stood up as Sam came around the tree and shot me a guilty look. Wringing my wrists the best I could, which is really hard to do with a broken arm that's all fiberglass casted up, I looked up at him and felt bad. He came back, right? No. He left, he deserved it. Since my arms hurt too much to hit him, I stomped on his foot. "Don't just think you coming back here changes anything. I'm still angry with you. Thankful you just saved me from an even scarecrow that was going to make me its first course, but –"

"Hey, can you do this later?" Dean seethed as he helped Emily up. "We gotta go, now."

* * *

You know, for a guy who just had his foot stomped on, this kid sure can run. We were sprinting through the woods, looking for the way out. "All right, now, this sacred tree you're talking about –" Sam was asking about everything as we filled him on the rest of what we'd learned.

"It's the source of its power," I answered.

"So let's find it and burn it," Sam replied.

What, are you nuts? Yes, please, let's go running BACK towards the scary monster and try to burn it while I have no weapons on me. What are we gonna do, throw flint rock at it and hope he ignites on contact. Grow a brain, college boy. "Nah, in the morning," Dean shrugged it off. "Let's just shag ass before Leather Face catches up." Well, it's good to know that my little nick name stuck for the thing. I smiled to myself, and just as we got into this clearing, people from the town were standing there, waiting. The people in this town are freaks. I'm serious. "This way," Dean announced, moving us all in a different direction, only for _more_ people to show up and block our path.

I officially hate Indiana.

"Please, let us go," Emily pleaded out to the townspeople.

Her uncle, Harley, stepped forward with a sad face. "It'll be over quickly, I promise."

"Yeah right," I scoffed, earning an arm smack from Sam.

"Please," Emily continued to beg.

Harley stepped forward, and although he was forcing this on her, I could see it was killing him. "Emily, you have to let him take you. You have to –" my eyes widened and I jumped behind Sam as this metal hook thing came through Harley's stomach. Emily was screaming, along with her aunt, and half the other women in the town. Oh, yeah, and me too. I scream a lot. All of a sudden, Stacy was grabbed too, and the two of them were dragged away by the scarecrow while their lovely friends took off in the other direction. I saw Emily run to Dean, freaking out, and I just grabbed the back of Sam's coat and dug my head into his back. Dude, that was almost Dean, and maybe me.

"Come on, let's go," I heard Dean announce, and Sam started to turn around to get me to let go of him.

Before Sam could ask if I was okay, I nodded breathed out a breath before we tried to take off running towards the road once more. Just as we were set to move, we heard a noise, and instantly readied ourselves for a fight; but there was nothing. It was like everything had gone back to the calm normal it had before.

* * *

Oh, this is gonna be so freaking sweet, burning this tree. This is a crazy tree, too, by the way. All these weird branches and crap. I stood next to Sam after he poured gas on the tree and Dean lit a branch.

"Let me," Emily said, stepping forward and taking the branch from Dean.

"You know, the whole town's gonna die," I reminded her.

"Good," she nodded before throwing the branch at the tree and bringing flames to the whole thing.

I like her. She should hang out with us for a while.

But she didn't. Instead she had us take her to the bus stop so she could go and meet up with someone in Boston. I waved to her from where I was leaning on the wall, near the door to go in and buy tickets. It didn't take too long for her to say thanks and good bye to Dean, and then her bus pulled out of the station. I caught Sam's eye as he stood talking to Dean. Trying to avoid that gaze, I hung my head and went into the bus station, trying to find a vending machine or something to kick repeatedly.

* * *

Watching Dean double check that everything was in the Impala, I sat on a bench quietly, moving the tab on my soda back and forth. Just as he sat down beside me, the tab snapped and fell into the can before I could stop it. Great. Now I have nothing to distract me. I sighed more out of the fact that I knew what was coming and I couldn't run from it anymore.

"Bec –" he said as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the tops of his legs before clasping his hands. Neither of us were looking at each other. We were both watching Dean and the car.

"Why'd you come back?" I cut him off.

Sam didn't answer right away. "I missed you?"

Nodding my head, I set my soda can on the ground at my feet before leaning back and pulling my sleeves over my hands and crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh yeah? That the excuse you give Dean? I'm smarter than him, Sam. Why'd you really come back?"

I heard the light chuckle come out of him as he hung his head. "How'd you know?"

"Because I'm me, and you're you."

"I don't know," he sighed rubbing his palms together. "I guess I just wasn't ready to find Dad… at least not alone."

"But you got out, just like you've always wanted. Hell, you got _permission_ to get out. Why would you give all that up to come back to this?"

He leaned back and laid his arm on the back of the bench behind me. "I need to find that demon, but I can't do it alone. Dean's right. We're a family. You don't leave family."

I watched as Dean was slowly working his way around the Impala. He was definitely taking his time so that Sam and I could talk. "Then why did you?"

"Haven't you ever wanted to just… _not_ live this way? Have friends, go to school, _not_ fight so hard to stay alive and protect everyone else? What's so wrong with wanting to be normal?" he questioned.

Chewing on my lip, I thought about it. Could I even picture myself that way? God, what would our lives be like if we _had_ grown up "normal"? Well, obviously Sam would be in law school right now. He would have nailed that interview – I know it. But Dean? Dean would probably be working with Dad back at that auto shop in Lawrence. Dad would still live in that house because it would hold all those memories of Mom. Mom… Would she even be alive? All I saw when I thought of her now was that shift in her smile from pride to disappointment, and then she was in flames. I couldn't picture her living… and I couldn't picture me in that scenario at all. I didn't see me in school, or working in Lawrence or living with Dean or my dad. I didn't really know where I saw myself. "Sam, this _is _my normal. I'm not good at anything else, and I'm barely even good at this. I can't go to school and become some fancy pants lawyer like you, or own some car repair shop like Dad, or even do whatever the hell Dean would do."

"You've never thought about just putting it all behind you and never looking back?" he skeptically pressed.

Shrugging, I dropped my hands into my lap. "I mean, where would I go? I don't think I'd ever be able to just walk away from Dad or Dean, or even you. It would hurt too much… you guys are all I have."

"What about when you told Darrel you would leave?"

"Sam –" I warned. I wasn't ready for that talk yet. We were still on this one.

"Becca, you said that you told him you wanted to leave that night."

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself. "Look. I was drunk when I told him that, okay? And even if I had left, the next morning I would have woken up and probably would have turned around to go back to Dad and Dean –"

"But what if you hadn't!" he cut me off almost eagerly.

"Then I would have gone to Stanford to find you, Sam!" I yelled, causing both him and Dean to look at me. Grimacing, I began scratching my thumb in my cast. "Just –" I stopped myself. "I didn't mean it. I was hurt, and angry, and drunk. I shouldn't have said it, and I I'm sorry I did, okay? I just couldn't, I mean, how could… Why was it _so_ easy for you to leave?" my voice cracked as I saw Dean still keeping a subtle eye on us.

Is it wrong for me to say that it felt like a punch in the gut when Sam responded? Because it did. "I needed out, Bec. I couldn't stay and follow Dad's order and act like I was more of a soldier than a son. I needed to make my own decisions, live my own life, you know?"

Biting my lip I nodded my head. I knew that, deep down, I guess. I always knew that Sam would someday break out. He was too smart, too good, I suppose. "I just never thought you living your own life meant that I wasn't a part of it. I needed you, Sam. You didn't even tell me you were thinking about leaving. You should have handled it differently. Then maybe I wouldn't have; that night… God," I threw my hands to my face. I wasn't crying, but I didn't want him to see my angered eyes either. This was _my_ internal struggle now.

"Hey," Sam turned and grabbed my hands from my face and then forced me to look up into his sad, lost, guilt filled eyes. "I am _so_ sorry that happened to you. You have to know that if I knew what – if someone had told me, I would have called you or something, Becca. I wouldn't have… I would have come back." I nodded my head and broke his gaze. I believed that he would have. But I had blamed him for such a long time, that now, now it was just too hard to accept that anything he said he would have done would have actually happened. "I didn't know my leaving would do that to you, and I should have. I just, I guess I thought that by me not calling you and by pretending none of this existed, that it would be easier."

"Was it?" my voice was quiet, but I knew by the way that his grip on my hands changed, that he heard me. But he didn't' say anything and that gave me my answer. "I'm sorry for blaming you for what happened," I announced after another knot formed in my stomach. "It's not your fault, what happened. It's mine –"

"But I should have been there," he argued.

"You're right," I nodded in agreement. "You should have. Or you should have let me know you didn't hate me –"

"I didn –"

"I know," I looked up at him again. I could see this was tearing at him and destroying him like it had me. But I had to stay strong. I had to remain somewhat emotionless or nothing would ever be fixed. "But it doesn't matter because you _weren't_ there. No matter how much I begged and wanted you to be, you weren't. And neither of us can change that. It's my fault all that stuff happened that night. I know Dean says it's not, but it is. And you have to understand, Sam, that what happened changed part of me. You said it yourself. I'm not as innocent or naïve, I use my body, I notice people noticing me – all of that, you're right. But I do it because it makes me feel like I have control, you know? I felt so, so vulnerable, scared, manipulated… defenseless. All our training, and all the preparation and everything we were taught – I couldn't remember any of it. I didn't think that I would get away from them. I thought that was it. I never want to feel that way again. That's why I act like this. Being your little innocent, find the good in people, naïve sister didn't do me any good. And it took me a long time, a _really_ long time to figure that out… Dean showed me it was okay. He made me stronger, him and Dad. I don't know how they did it, Sam, but they did. They fixed everything, and they made everything better… and between you and me, I didn't know that was really even possible."

Sam didn't say anything for a long time. I think he was absorbing everything. I suppose it was a lot for him to have to take in. I think he might have been realizing that I was able to survive without him – something both of us probably never thought was possible. "And you're okay with all of this? With acting like this, knowing what could happen if people don't like it or feel taken advantage of?" he questioned slowly after his pause.

I pursed my lips and nodded my head, trying to convince him like I had to convince myself all those times. "Yes. I know I'm basically some tease, but I think that through some sociological –"

"Psychological," he offered.

"Right. Through some psychological way it helps. And I'm not as scared anymore. Dean's made sure of that," I nodded to our brother who was now checking the oil level. "He's always there now. He watches, and he steps in. A lot. I bet if I even looked a him a certain way, he'd come kick you for me. He might have become a little _too_ intense actually."

Sam chuckled. "You don't have to feel like you have to do that anymore through. I'm back, Bec. You can come to me again. Things can go back to normal."

"But how long are you back for? Until we get this thing? Then what? You go back to Stanford? Back to your friends and your "normal" life. Pretend none of this is real? I mean, how long until you just disappear again, cutting us out of your life?"

"What if I promised to never cut you out of my life again? To not hurt you like that?" he suggested.

I looked at him carefully, waiting for the "but" or "as long as" but they never came, and his eyes were sincere. "I'd like that. But I'd like it even more if you didn't leave," I told him honestly as I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. "And since you promised _me_ something, I'll promise _you_ something."

"You don't have to," he smiled while leaning back and looking up at me.

"I know, but I'm going to. I promise that I'll try and not act like a whore, even though, I gotta admit. I think your term is drastic. I mean, I wear normal clothes that – okay, they're a little tight, but I've always worn them. And they don't show a lot of skin. And Dean hooks up with girls dressed way skankier."

Smiling slightly, Sam stood up and looked down at me. "I'm sorry I called you a whore. I was just upset you weren't so innocent any more. It was like baby Becca went from being twelve to twenty over night and turned into this _thing_ that guys want."

Rolling my eyes, I smiled in return. "If by _thing_ you mean _woman_, handle it. And I've spent the last two years with Dean as a mentor. If I even tried to be innocent I'd probably burst into flames."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam gritted playfully and said, "I wouldn't say you're a _woman_. Living with Dean kind of caps your age at an infinite seventeen. Old enough to be grown, but too young for him to approve of people to be with you. But, I'd say you're not even that old… more like… an overgrown toddler," he teased.

"Hey, Dean's the only child in this family. Crying over pie and cars all the time," I remarked.

"So are we okay?"

I looked up at him as we started walking over to the Impala. "We're getting there. I meant it when I said I'll try to go back to being the Becca from before. I don't think she's as fun though."

Sam nudged me with his elbow as we made it to the car to see Dean missing. "Nah, this Becca isn't _so_ bad. Her brother was just an ass."

"Too true," I agreed. "I'm sorry if I left you down, Sam…"

Turning me to face him, he shook his head. "No. I let you down. And I won't do it again. I'm here to stay. Whether at Stanford or in the car next to you and Dean – I've got your back."

Wrapping my arms around him, I squeeze him to me as tight as I could. "Thanks, Sam."

He didn't let go until we heard a throat clear from the side of us. "Uh, I take it we're all good here?" Dean questioned with upraised brows as he used a hand to indicate back and forth between Sam and me.

Sam looked down at me as I pulled away from him. "Yeah," I said sincerely while nodding, "we're good."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Great. Can't wait for all the chick flick crap to start again. Can't say I missed that."

Sam walked around the car and opened the door to get in. "Hey, Dean," I opened my own door but didn't get in right away. He was pulling the keys out of his pocket as he eyed me. "Do ya think maybe I could drive?" Sam seemed to freeze and wait for the response that was already in action.

Shaking his head and arms back and forth in front of his chest, Dean grunted out a very quick, very sharp, "No." Pointing a finger towards me, he continued. "There's no way I'm letting you get behind the wheel. You'll probably drive her off a cliff."

I heard Sam chuckle from where he got into the car and finally closed his door. "I would not! I'm a good driver!"

"Right. Tell that to the deer you massacred."

"Dude, that was how many years ag –"

"Five years ago," Dean snarked climbing into the front seat. "Five years isn't long enough to get over what you did to Baby."

Closing my door as I got in, I leaned forward in my seat to continue. "You weren't there! You didn't see the look in its eyes! That deer _wanted_ to die!"

Dean scoffed as he started the car. "Yeah, well, I wanted a puppy and go you instead, so I guess only some of us get what we want."

"Dean, you don't even _like_ dogs," I clicked my belt into place.

"And you said you didn't see the deer because it hopped out from the field. So, which is it?" he asked, starting the car and eyeing me in the rearview.

Crap. "So, uh, Sam, meet anyone fun on your trip?" I quickly changed the subject.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-six.**

**Apologies for the last chapter being rushed and full of errors. Those will be fixed, I promise. Eventually. I'm slowly making my way through the story, fixing each chapter along the way.**

**I want to give you all a great big shout out and scream of thanks. There have been over 20,000 views on this story! Do you know what that means? That's right. I screamed like Regina George in ****_Mean Girls_**** when she found out she was eating the fattening bars. Yep. But I was happier... She was kind of angry. But I digress...**

**This chapter was actually a lot harder to write than I expected it to be. I hope you guys are all able to understand the feelings I was trying to get across, and that it ends up meeting your expectations!**

**I want to send a million thanks out to you all for reading this story, and then a million more to the reviewers/PMers/adders. I have recently received a substantial amount of PMs from people telling me how much they enjoy the story and asking for my help! You blow me away, guys, really. I never in my wildest dreams expected any of this. I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am to write something you all seem to enjoy so much. You're the best people, ever. I promise.  
And even more thanks to Jenmm31! She has taken ample amounts of her time, while SUPER busy, to help me. She is just too awesome. Please be sure to go and check out her 2 stories. Show her love, guys! She likes it.**

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**Disclaimer.**

* * *

"Right here, right here, Dean, pull over, it's _right here_!" I jabbed my finger through the open window towards the house. Dean finally pulled over, and I tossed the map to the side, and quickly made my way out of the car.

Sam was first to make it to the trunk, and Dean tossed him the keys so he could open it. I stood there, next to Sam, puckered my lips, and scrunched up my face while looking from the trunk up to him. I don't have a clue as to what we're looking for. Raising a brow, I shrugged, only for Sam to smile and shake his head while Dean finally arrived.

"Right here, Becca, right _heeeeere_," Dean mocked as he dug out two tasers and gave one to Sam and shook the other one in my face. Whatever, turd. I rolled my eyes while he looked at me with an expression that told me he was annoyed. Attempting to snatch the taser from his hand, he quickly raised it out of my reach. "No," he snipped using a hand to push me back towards Sam. "You're not getting a taser."

"What? Why not?!" I gasped at the same time as my twin. Well, Sam didn't gasp, but he's clearly oblivious to the importance of all of this.

Digging around in the trunk, Dean pulled out a bunch of flashlights, handing them out, and then moved me to the side to close the lid after double checking he had his gun. "Becca," he huffed turning to face me with that, "_do we really need to go over the reasons_" look. Yes, Dean, we do. Enlighten me. "For one, your arm is still broken, and you can't shoot anything –"

"I can do it with my left hand," I interrupted while holding up my left palm sarcastically and waving it in his face.

He grabbed my wrist and forced my hand down, acting like I hadn't just stopped him from talking. "Second, your aim sucks. Knowing you, you'll miss and end up hitting me in the ass, dropping me to the ground."

"I can shove my foot up your –" I started to respond, and I saw his face change when he realized what I was going to say.

"What do you have these amped up to?" Sam cut over me, pulling on the back of my jacket so that some distance was put between Dean and me. "If it's not too high, maybe I can give her mine, and keep an eye on her," Sam suggested, trying to keep a real fight from starting.

I nodded my head, liking his idea, and crossed my arms over my chest, while we both waited for the answer. "A hundred thousand volts," Dean stated with raised brows.

"Damn," Sam stated in shock. "Sorry, Bec. I'm gonna have to go with Dean on this one. You're not allowed to touch a taser."

"Oh come on! My aim is not even that bad. You're being dramatic. I bet you don't even need to put the volts up that high, do you?" I snipped as I tried to prove I could totally rock a taser.

Dean started walking towards the house, waving me off. "Yeah, well, I want this rawhead extra frickin' crispy. And remember, Sam, you only get one shot with these things. So make it count."

Sam and I stayed back at the trunk while I stuck my tongue on the top of my mouth. Dean is so not fair. Treating me like I'm all kinds of inept or something. I am way better than that. Sort of. I mean, I'm pretty sure that I shot that Hook Man thing that tried to slice Sam open. And I shot a wendigo. Ergo, I can aim when at close range. "This is _not_ fair," I snorted to Sam as he started pushing me towards the house. "I wouldn't actually shoot him, Sam. I can't believe he said that."

"I don't think he really expects you would shoot him," Sam chuckled beside me. I looked up to him with eyes that asked, "_really_" and he chuckled again, a smile coming through. "All right, he might. Don't worry. The minute you get that cast off, I'm sure he'll let you use more than just a flashlight." Again I looked at him with the "_really_" face. "Or not, hey, what do you want from me?" he stopped as we got onto the lawn of the house, where Dean was trying to pick the lock.

Smiling, I looked up at him. "Well, you could give me your taser…" Now it was his turn to shoot me the face. "Fine," I pouted, hanging my head. "But next time, I vote _we_ get the weapons. Deal?"

"Sure," he agreed as Dean finally got the door open and whistled for us to follow him inside.

Entering the house, the lights were all off, and there was no noise at all. It was quiet, almost _too_ quiet. Sticking with Sam, Dean split off from us and we searched the floor, trying to find this uncooked piece of beast. We found nothing. Well, that leaves the basement. It always ends up being the basement, doesn't it? Regardless, we met up at the door of the basement, and agreed that the monster would be down there. I was standing between them as we worked our way down, flashlight pointed ahead of me. Yep. Just a flashlight. Couldn't even get a gun because of this stupid cast. If these last few weeks don't hurry up and go by, I'm going to be _so_ pissed off. I mean, it's really putting a damper on everything. Dean won't give me weapons, I can't write anything because I'm right handed, and it's _really_ itchy. Like, unbelievably itchy. I think there's a stick or pencil stuck in there. Don't tell Sam. He gets angry when he sees me sticking stuff inside of it. Right as we got to the bottom of the steps, there was a sound coming from behind a door. I tried to go ahead of Dean, to open the door, but wouldn't you know it, he stopped me from being able to.

Giving me the "_I got this, hang back and don't make me beat you_" face, he whispered out, "On three. One. Two. Three," to Sam and me who nodded, waiting in preparation. Although, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with just a flashlight. Shine it in the monster's eyes? Ooh, fear my light bulb. Ooh! But, I prepared myself with all my "pre-puma leap" glory, and Dean flung open the door. And there, staring at us was… a little kid. Two little kids, huddled on the floor, covering their ears like Sam and I used to when we would hide in the bath tub as kids. This can't be what we're here to get.

"Is it still here?" Sam bent down to whisper to the little kids who quickly nodded, looking scared out of their minds.

"Okay. Grab your sister's hand," Dean told the boy, "come on, we gotta get you out of here. Let's go, let's go." Checking over my shoulder, I started over towards the stairs, the kids behind me, and Sam behind them. "All right, go!" Dean ordered. Grabbing the hand of the boy, I tugged him along behind me as we took to the steps, his sister right behind him, Sam bringing up the rear.

I was almost to the stop of the stairs when I felt a shove from behind me and the kids screamed, barreling past me, and then hiding behind my legs. Looking down to where Sam should have been, there was the monster, attached to Sam's leg. "Sam!" I screamed, wrapping my hands around the kids practically pushing me onto my knees.

Dean spun around and saw Sam on the stairs, and then immediately aimed his taser at the monster, and missed. "Bec, get them out of here!" Dean yelled up to me, as Sam struggled to get to his feet.

I moved as soon as the order connected to my brain. Turning, I shoved the kids ahead of me, and through the house to the front door and outside. Making it to the Impala, I sat them down inside of it, and instructed them to lay down, and not move, look out of the window, or make a sound, and told them that I would be back as soon as I could. Rushing back into the house and into the basement, I saw Sam bent over, standing in the water blocking something.

Stopping just on the bottom stair, I searched around the room, trying to assess the situation. On one side of me was the monster, with the taser electrodes stuck in him. The cords ran from his body to the compartment that normally held everything inside of it, which was lying just beside Sam. That's when I heard him talking in a stern yet soothing voice. And then I realized I didn't see Dean. Moving quickly from the stair, through the water, I bumped into Sam and looked over his shoulder to see Dean's face in Sam's hands, his body not moving as it laid not even two feet from the taser. It didn't take me long to figure out what happened. Sam continued to call out Dean's name, trying to make him pay attention, and I felt fear enter my system while goose bumps covered my skin.

* * *

Running a hand through my hair, I was getting aggravated. It was like every moment dragged on after Sam and I managed to get Dean out of the water and up the stairs. We go to the hospital, got Dean admitted, called the police, handed over those kids, hadn't heard anything about anything, and now I was exhausted, standing here, still talking to the police while Sam handled the paperwork. He had more patience than I did. I'd sat down to try and do it but got frustrated and started snapping on Sam out of frustration. He was being cool though, and calm. He was way more level headed than I probably ever will be. I even called my dad at point, but he didn't answer and still hadn't called me back. I was barely comprehending the questions that the cops were asking, let alone what my responses were. I was tripping over my stories, nothing was making sense, and I kept looking over my shoulder for Sam or the doctor.

"Look, we can finish this up later," one of the cops told me quietly.

Shaking my head, I looked down and then up at him. "No, no, it's okay. I'm, I'm sorry. Okay. The fact is we were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. And, um, uh –"

Sam's presence stopped me as he clapped his hands on my shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze. "Becca, why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get a couple cups of coffee or something," he suggested before I could figure out the rest of my story.

I nodded my head. I didn't actually want to go to the cafeteria. I wanted to go and find a doctor so that they could tell me my brother was awake and okay. I didn't enjoy this waiting game. But, I just wrapped my arms around myself and walked slowly down the hall while Sam continued with the cops. The only reason I knew I was in the cafeteria was because the room got cold, and my steps echoed louder than they had in the hall. I barely picked my head up as I scanned the cold, metal surfaces, looking for the dispenser. There was one man standing behind the hot food bar, wiping down a pan, and he smiled as I ambled up to the machine and pulled out two medium sized containers. Sticking the first one under the pot's spout, I filled the cup up enough to where I could still add cream and sugar, and then set it to the side, preparing to fill the next one. Just as I put the pot back and turned, my sleeve caught one of the cups and knocked it to the floor.

Slamming the pot back into its spot, and then groaning, I dragged my left hand over my face. This day was just _not_ going well. Grabbing as many napkins as I could, I threw myself to the floor and began to try and stop the spill from growing. I groaned as I realized that even with a bazillion napkins soaked on the floor in front of me, that I still didn't have enough. As I went to pull myself up, a mop appeared in front of me, right in the puddle. Looking up, I saw the same man from behind the counter holding onto the wooden handle. Gathering my napkins up, I smiled as much as I could, and mumbled out a "_thanks_" before stuffing all of the soaked towels into the trash.

"It's quite all right," he assured me as he finished mopping up my mess and then placed an orange cone on top of the spot. "I take it you've been waiting for a while?" he sighed out as I filled a third coffee cup up. "You got someone staying here?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "My brother. He got hurt when we were, uh, we were helping someone. I don't even know if he's awake," I explained as I added the cream and sugar into each cup.

Why was I spilling my guts out to him? Who was this guy? How was me telling him all of this going to help? That's right, it wouldn't. The man tossed my discarded cup away and nodded his head, a sympathetic smile on his face. "It will be okay. This is a good hospital. Educated staff, caring nurses; your brother is going to be okay."

He seemed so sure. I felt every part of me grasping onto those words. Stirring the coffees and snapping on lids, I thanked him for the reassurance and then pulled out my wallet. "How much are the three coffees? I owe you for the one I spilled, too," I sighed, spreading the flap and seeing a couple bills that didn't even equal over fifteen dollars. Plucking out the biggest bill, I stopped when his hand covered mine.

"It's on the house," he tapped my hand with his own.

"Oh no. I couldn't let you do that. I mean, I wasted so much by knocking the one onto the ground and –"

"It's okay. Just enjoy your coffee and go check on your brother. Make sure he's all right. I'm sure you'll feel better when you do," he grabbed his mop and smiled before heading back around the counter of the hot food bar.

I wanted to hug him. That's how happy he'd just made me. He was officially the _sweetest_ old man I've ever met in my life, and I wanted to cry, and tell him thank you and that I would pay him for the coffees just on principle because he was so nice, and that both of my brothers would really appreciate it. But I didn't. I just grabbed my coffees, thanked him once more, and headed back towards the lobby I'd left Sam at. Finding out he wasn't in the lobby, I asked the lady at the desk if she knew where he was, and she told me he'd gone to see Dean.

Never have I walked so fast in my life. It was like there was only one door in the entire hall, and it was the door I needed. I rounded the corner, seeing Dean with a smart ass scowl on his face as he pointed the remote to the television sitting on the movable tray in front of him. "…softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down," he remarked.

I let out a croaked chuckle, as I entered the room, bringing both of their eyes to me. Slapping on a fake smile and trying to come up with a more than pathetic fake strength, I pressed on. "My hero," I joked in a swooned manner. "You electrocute yourself, end up in the hospital, and still try to fight the killer bear."

"That's right. You're allergic to that thing aren't you," Dean tried to smile at me.

It was really hard for me to look at him and not bite my lip and fight back the tears welling up in my eyes at the sight of him. He was hooked up to a ton of cords, and he was pale. Really pale, and it worried me. It was almost like he couldn't open his mouth all the way to talk because he was that tired and hurt. His eyes had deep, dark circles underneath them, and I don't think I've ever seen him look so worn out. I wanted to just hug him, and apologize for getting angry that he wouldn't let me use the taser, and I wanted to tell him he was way cooler than I ever told him he was. I felt like there was so much I had to apologize for, and here I was just looking at him like he was a kicked puppy. "Yeah," I sniffed, trying to act like I was okay. "Yeah. I'm still allergic to it." My voice was hardly above a whisper as I cleared my throat and set the coffees on the table next to the TV. "Your, uh, your doctor say anything?" I crossed my arms over my chest and clung my fingers around my upper arms as best I could.

"Not really," Dean sighed, casting a warning look up to Sam.

"Dean," Sam scolded with a quiet voice.

Looking between them, my brows furrowed. He was trying to keep something from me, and Sam knew. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. Dean looked over from Sam to me, and when he saw my face, he sighed and seemed like he was forcing himself to fill me on the secret. "Yeah," he clicked off the TV and tried to adjust himself a little bit in the bed. "All right," he made sure to make eye contact with me, and I knew to pay attention, "well, Bec, it looks like you're gonna leave town without me."

I shook my head, not really understanding. "What are you talking about, Dean? We're not just gonna leave you here."

Watching his eyes fall slightly, his mouth soon formed a frown after. His eyes lingered on my face a little more before he switched over to Sam and cleared his own throat, becoming more serious. "You make sure to watch out for her, Sammy, okay? She's gonna need you. And you better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass," he threatened.

"I don't think that's funny," Sam told him.

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny," Dean tried to argue.

My mind was still whirling around with what was being said. Was I just extra slow today? Or was he completely joking? What did he mean by "_make sure to watch out for her_"? Did he mean me? I felt dizzy, and I had to run a hand through my hair. "I don't, what – what are you sayin', Dean?" I croaked, knowing the answer as I asked the question. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and the pressure was growing more and more with each passing second.

"Look, guys, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story," he stated blatantly.

"Don't talk like that, all right?" I found myself whispering. I looked over to his face when his eyes turned to mine, and I saw sadness fill them. He was hurting, and I didn't know what to do. "We still, we still have options, right? Noth –"

"What options?" he cut over me. His tone was snapping, and I felt my eyes close and my lips pinch as he spoke. I knew he wasn't angry with me, and just taking the frustration out, but it didn't hurt any less. "The options are burial or cremation. Look, I know you guys don't want to hear it, but you know what the doctor said. I'm not makin' it out of here. You guys are gonna have to find Dad without me."

Shaking my head, the tears were dripping on their own now, no matter how much I tried to stop them. It felt like I was going to choke on how tight the lump was in my throat. Nothing was passing by, and it felt like my heart stopped in my chest. My body seemed to go cold and I don't even know how I was standing there staring at him. I tried to talk, but it came out as a deep, loud sob, and I didn't know how to stop it. Dean was going to die, and he knew it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. This was it, he was laying in this stupid bed, looking like that, while I was here, a complete and total useless, waste of space. I wasn't ready to let him die. I needed him to stay alive. Sam and I were only just getting back to being okay. I didn't know if I could function without Dean. I've never been without him my entire life. He's been the only guy to be there for me 24/7, even if we weren't close. He was there, and it took me a really time to figure that out, and I wasn't ready to accept that it was over.

What would happen if Sam went back to Stanford, or if we never found our dad, or if, or if that stupid fabric softener bear came after me? Who was going to help?! I needed him to stay alive, because without him, I'd be lost. If he died, I'm pretty sure the entire family would die, too. The sobs were shaking me, and my eyes were so blurred, that I couldn't see anything. I felt arms wrap around me, and I was then pulled into a chest, smelling the familiar scent of some kind of men's cologne, mixed with mint from the gum he always seemed to be chewing, and the faint smell that I could only describe as a guy who worked hard and wore old jackets and jeans. I broke down into Sam's arms, and I sobbed into his shirt. It was like I didn't remember Dean was even still alive in the room, I was already freaking out over his death.

It wasn't fair. Dean was too strong to die, he was like some sort of invincible _thing_ that was always there. I didn't want to imagine not hearing those stupid jokes, or not fighting with him over pie, or trying to tell him that it was actually okay to let me belt out a song while in the middle of a bar filled with guys my age. I would do anything and everything he said if he just stayed alive. I would forgive him for everything, and I would listen, and I would never ever argue, and I would even just sit in the middle of the back seat of the Impala and not make a sound if it just meant that he would stay alive.

"Bec," I heard Dean groan from behind me. I don't know how I heard it, but I did, and I flung out of Sam's arms so fast that I think it shocked him. I was instantly clinging to Dean, not even realizing that I was probably causing him way more pain. But if I was, he didn't show it.

"Y-you-you can't d-d-d, De-an," I coughed. "I, I, I ne-nee-nee-nee, I, puh-puh-pu-" I couldn't finish a sentence as my sobs came out harder as I tried to tell him not to leave me. I held him to me as tight as I possibly could, afraid to let go.

I felt him tense up as I squeezed, but I didn't care. I felt better as his arms wrapped around me, and his chin rested on my head, secure almost, like he was shielding me from the horror of his death. He didn't seem to relax, and I knew that meant that he was just as emotional as I was, but he wasn't going to show it. He was going to try and stay strong, for me, and for Sam. "Bec, listen to me," his voice was strained as he tried to get me to stop.

"Do-don-don't, don't," I shook my head against his chest. "You can-can- no," I sobbed, feeling like the waves of fear where crashing over me again.

"Sam," I heard Dean call out, and I then felt a hand on my arm, pulling. I freaked out, my eyes widening as much as they possibly could, still blurred out by tears that were dripping down my cheeks. I felt my body being pulled off of Dean, and back away from the bed. Fighting the pull, I tried to get back to Dean, proving to myself that he wasn't going to die. If I could hug him, he couldn't be dead. "Bec, come on, Bec…" Dean tried to get me stop, and I wouldn't. None of this was right. He shouldn't be laying there like that. He should be, I don't know, anywhere else. "Rebecca, listen!" he tried to yell.

Sam shook me and I fought to compose myself. Choking back sobs, I took deep breaths, but my body shivered with each exhale. "Becca, you have to stop, or they're gonna make us leave. Hey, look at me," Sam was trying to get me to face him, and I felt hot, and there was a headache building, and my throat and stomach hurt. "Come on, Becca, breathe. Your face is purple. You need to relax." There were blurry hazel orbs in my line of vision. I was trying to breathe and cry past the lump and it was coming out as large, intense inhales. He was right, my head was throbbing, I was choking, and I felt like I was going to be sick. "Breathe, come on, breathe," Sam instructed calmly, helping me to steady my inhales and exhales.

Once my freak out had calmed down, I felt Sam's hand sweep my forehead, and then down the side of my face, tucking hair behind my ear. His eyes stayed locked on mine, and I saw they were fairly pink, and still had a light rim of unshed tears along the rims. I could tell, just from that look that he felt the same pain I did. He was breaking inside and it felt like part of him was being ripped away. My chin started to tremble, and he quickly pulled me to him, where I tried to keep silent as a few more tears leaked out of my tightly squeezed eyes.

"Sam," Dean's voice croaked before he coughed and cleared his throat. "I know it's not easy… Okay, but I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it," he spoke with finality.

I felt Sam tighten his hold and he moved a little as I'm sure he looked down at me and then back up to Dean. "Watch me," I felt him say as his chest rumbled with the words.

* * *

Signing the last of the paperwork, I slapped the pen down onto the desk. "So, I can take him now? He's free to go?" I eagerly questioned the receptionist while my eyes darted from her face to the door that sat in the hall.

"I think… that is everything," she seemed unsure as she thumbed through all the papers and checked the folder in front of her while comparing it to the computer screen. "Your insurance will contact you in rega –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I cut her off, leaning forward on the desk, giving her impatient eyes. "So he can go? He's okay to leave?" I bit my lip and shifted my eyes and face into one of hope.

She must have sensed my feelings because her face fell into sympathy. "Yes. The nurses are just helping your brother get dressed, and he should be able to leave as soon as they've finished."

Shooting her a smile and hitting my palm on the top of the desk, I shot out a "_thank you_" before taking off down the hall at a quick speed. I had refused to leave with Sam after the day Dean was admitted. I needed to make sure that Dean stayed alive, and the only way for me to do that was to sit on the chair next to his bed and watch shows on his tiny television. I almost had a mini panic attack when I saw his eyes close and his head loll to the side the first day, but when I realized he was only sleeping, I relaxed. I felt responsible for taking care of him. Even if he did tell me to go with Sam, I put my foot down. I yelled at him, at Sam, at the staff, everyone felt the wrath of Becca that day. I was not leaving him to sit in some hospital without any family. I had to prove that I was there for him, as much as he had been there for me. I couldn't let him down, even if he was sure he was still… you know. I was just happy that we'd convinced the doctors that it'd be better if he finally left to go back to the motel with me. Rounding into the door, I saw the nurses going over, for the zillionth time, how they recommend he stay for proper care and treatment. They were helping him pull his jacket on as he continued to nod his head as they spoke. He was obviously over listening to them and wanted nothing more than beat their faces against a wall, but he was restraining.

"We can go," I spoke up once I was far enough into the room that the nurses would hear the determination in my voice.

"Great," he attempted to stand up and push past the nurses, but I had to rush to his side to support him. Wrapping his arm over my shoulders, I wrapped my hands around his waist and pulled him into my side. I don't know how much of a good supporter I am considering he's like a wall and I'm, not. But I wasn't going to just stand there and watch him struggle. Nodding past the nurses, I walked him over the provided wheelchair. "I can walk to the door, Becs," he grumbled as I took extra care to make sure his foot things were set and he was seated properly.

Kicking off the wheel locks, and I had to bend all the way over and use a ton of push in my legs to get the chair to move. "Humor me," I grunted as I struggled to turn him. God, what does this guy weigh? Jesus.

Finally managing to direct the chair to the cab that waited outside of the main doors, I struggled to help him up and into the back seat. Returning the wheelchair, I raced back to the cab and slid in next to Dean, telling the cab where to go. And I made him drive slowly. And Dean complained the whole time. It probably took us twice to three times the amount of time it would have had Dean been driving. Shoving a handful of money into the cab driver's hands, I kicked open my door and went around to help Dean who was slowly working his own way out.

"Here, let me help," I scolded as I tried to support him again and then shut the door as we slowly walked away. I know that Dean is totally one of those "self sufficient" people, but he was just going to have to suck it up. He clearly couldn't make it out of the hospital and to the room by himself. He could barely stand as it was.

He scowled, but then chuckled. "You know, I could get used to you waiting on me hand and foot."

Grimacing, I tried not to drag him to the door that was ahead of us. "Don't. Once you're better I'm totally expecting you to bring me breakfast in bed as a thanks." He bent over and gripped his side for a moment, and I panicked. Following his lead and bending to make sure he was okay, I quickly blurted, "Okay, I was just kidding. I'll do anything, all right? You don't have to give me breakfast in bed. I'll even wash your socks."

Once his small moment was over, I felt him grip my shoulder. "Just get me in the room, would ya?" he groaned.

We made our way to the door as fast as we could, and I tried digging around in my pocket for the extra key, coming up with nothing. Dean apparently couldn't wait, because the next thing I know, he's knocking on the wood, using me and the jam as support. I huffed, blowing some hair out of my face, and waited patiently for Sam to open up. Oh, and when he did, you should have seen his face. He was like, surprised, but happy, but confused, but angry, but really surprised, you know?

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Dean, not moving to let us into the door.

"I checked him out," I explained, readjusting Dean on my side. He really is heavy, and this really is hard.

Sam's face dropped from indescribable to completely frustrated. He looked tired, too. He had circles to match not only Dean's, but also my own. Apparently neither of us had slept during Dean's couple of days stay. I don't even think he'd changed his clothes to tell you the truth. I hadn't. "What, are you _crazy_?" he seethed, looking over our heads to see if people were watching.

Using a hand, I pushed Sam out of the way and led Dean into the room, allowing him to move as slowly as he needed. "Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot," Dean toyed with him, shrugging.

I heard Sam's laugh match my own before he closed the door. "You know, this whole "I laugh in the face of death" thing? It's crap. I can see right through it," Sam sighed as he ran a hand through his hair and watched me struggle to get Dean to a chair or something.

"Shut up, Sam," I growled while Dean's grip tightened on my shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever, dude," Dean answered. "Have you even slept? You look worse than me and her," he nodded towards me.

Trying to drag a chair over by its leg with my foot, I grunted and finally looked past Dean's arm over to Sam. "Can you help me get him in this," I asked, causing Sam to instantly take up the space on the other side of Dean. After he was seated and settled, I helped him get his coat off and wanted to make sure he was comfortable, only for him to roll his eyes and knock my hand off of his arms and such. He was obviously over me doing this, but I don't care.

Giving me a look that told me he was about two seconds from snapping, Dean sighed and made a face as he tried to move a little bit in the chair. "So, what have you been doing?" he asked Sam while I went off in search of pain pills and water.

"I've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal," Sam answered as I threw him the bottle of water and then struggled to open the bottle of pills with my cast. "Give me the bottle," Sam sighed, stuffing the water bottle between his arm and side.

Forking over the bottle with a huff, I ran a hand through my hair and fell onto the bed in a slumped mess. "What were you looking for?" I yawned out.

Untwisting the caps for Dean and then giving the stuff to him, Sam set the bottle of pills onto the table next to his laptop. "For a way to help, Dean. One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist."

Sipping on the water, Dean brought it from his lips and seemed to almost choke the water down, causing me to instantly snap up and watch him with eagle eyes. "You two aren't gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"We're not letting you die, _period_," I told him with sharp, angry eyes, earning a look.

"Dean, we're going to this guy," Sam decided, falling into the chair in front of the computer.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter Forty-seven.**

**Sorry this is late, guys! I have turned into the busiest bee it seems! But, it is here! Yay!**

**This chapter is a bit shorter, well, quite a bit shorter than normal, but I wanted to get this out to you tonight and I thought that this was a good place to end. I hope you all enjoy it and it works out well for everyone. :)  
I didn't proofread. I won't lie. I'm tired, it's late, and I've been needing a nap for the last... oh, 8 hours. Yep.**

**For those of you who haven't seen, I have started a second story. What? That's right! You can find my new story titled, ****_Baby Becca,_**** on my page! It is planned to be a plethora of flashbacks, memories, and just basically a bunch of pre-series moments between Becca and the guys. It will be all original pieces that can include new moments as well as expanded moments from this series. If you want to see something that you've read about in one of these chapters in one of those chapters, please let me know, and I will see if we can work something out. :)**

**This whole episode is ending up to be a little tougher than I expected, so I hope that you all think I am doing it justice. Fingers crossed.**

**Many thanks to those of you who have helped me this chapter, and for those who have stuck around so long. You're so awesome, and I love you. Extra thanks to the reviews/PMers/list-adders. You make me silently cheer every time I see there is a new one. Eek! And you, the readers are just, wow. You make it totally worth it. Thank you so much.**

**I think that was it!**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

I made sure to keep my eyes on Dean's face as Sam drove over what seemed like every single pot hole in the world. The car was bouncing like crazy and part of me even felt that if Dean had been driving, we wouldn't have been on this road. "Sam, go slower," I hissed when I saw Dean pinch his lips in pain when we hit one big bump.

"The whole road is like this," Sam sighed as he held a hand out ahead of us, indicating to the gravel mess that was disguised as a useable path.

"So?" I snapped. He should still try to drive the car in a smoother manner if you ask me.

Sam shot me a look in the rear view and I heard Dean huff out an annoyed grunt as he shifted around in the seat. See! Obviously the guy is in a ton of pain! Finally, Sam got close to our destination and there were a ton of cars parked and people crowding around this white tent in the distance. Sam pulled into a vacant spot and parked, quickly climbing out of the car and moving around the front of it to Dean's door. Throwing off my seatbelt, I got out of the car just as Dean's door was opening. He sat there a moment and looked around at the tent, and I turned to see what he was grimacing at. A sign next to the tent read, _"The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness the Miracle_." Faith healer? What's a faith healer? I heard the crunch of gravel as Dean's feet fought against it, and I spun, alongside Sam to see Dean pulling himself of the seat with a huge struggle.

We readied ourselves at the same time. Sam was bent, prepared to help pull him out of the car and steady him on his feet where I could step in and help lead him to the tent. "I got ya," Sam tried to assure our older brother.

Dean snapped at Sam and pushed him away saying, "I got it," while glaring from Sam to the tent. "Man, you are a lying bastard. Thought you said we were going to see a doctor," he snipped.

My eyes widened and I saw Sam's face fall a little while he grew impatient. "I believe I said a specialist. Look, Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal."

It looked like Dean was swaying on his feet a bit and I glued myself to his side before he could blink. He groaned and shot me a look of agitation, but I just made sure to fix my grip on his side. His expression didn't change as he grimaced at my head and then looked up to Sam once more. "I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent," he complained.

"Come on, Dean. Do you really think Sam would have dragged you here without researching and stuff? You know that he did his homework. Give this LeGrange dude a chance," I tried, hoping to get him to relax a little bit. He was already tense and in pain and the doctor said he had a heart attack. The last thing I need is for him to keel over right here.

A woman suddenly stopped right by us, lifting up her umbrella so that we could see her face. She looked like she could have used a helping hand herself as she pulled her coat tightly around her neck. Her elderly voice cracked as she looked back at us and carried a scolding tone when she spoke. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man," she told us, as though we'd made some horrible assumption or something.

"Yeah, that's nice," Dean bit with sarcasm and bitterness before she even closed her mouth after speaking.

If this guy wasn't half crippled I would have punched him or something. Instead I scowled up at him and then smiled at the lady. "Sorry," I apologized to her as she huffed and stalked off towards the tent. When she disappeared I tried to get Dean to look at me. "You can't just go snapping on people like that, Dean!" I barked at him.

Pushing me away from him, he fixed his jacket and glared at where Sam and I were standing next to each other before walking away from us and towards where a man was going back and forth with some officer. Dean was ahead of Sam and me by a few feet, but our eyes were glued to his retreating form. My bottom lip was stuck out in a pout while my brows scrunched over worried eyes. Dean needed help, that much was clear. And I owed it to him to be the one to help him, right? I mean, after everything? I should be the one who is helping him walk around, the one to bring him his food and drinks and whatever else he needs? That's my responsibility as not only his sister but as his friend, or am I totally wrong here? Blowing out a deep breath, Sam bumped me with the side of his arm, drawing my eyes from Dean who was slowly continuing towards the tent. "Relax. He's not mad at you."

Nodding, I gave in. Sam's right. If Dean's mad at anyone, it's definitely Sam. First off, Sam is the one who dragged him to Mr. Healer in the Tent. Second, um, who can ever really be mad at me? I'm freaking awesome. Cue hair flip, am I right? "All right," I sighed, "let's go help him before he falls over into a puddle and then catches pneumonia. The last thing we need is a Dean who has a runny nose. He'll whine like a baby for weeks."

Smiling, Sam playfully pushed me ahead of him to where Dean was just coming up to the man and officer. "I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he's milking all these people out of their hard-earned money." I heard the man say as I came to stand directly next to a clearly eavesdropping Dean.

"Sir, this is a place of worship. Let's go. Move it," the officer responded before pointing to his car in the distance. The man clearly didn't want to, but he did move, like a forced five year old.

Smiling, I looked up at Dean who still looked angry. "I take it he's not part of the flock," I teased lightly, hoping for him to relax.

When he didn't respond and just gritted his teeth, Sam cleared his throat before stepping in. "But when people see something they can't explain, there's controversy."

"I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer?" Dean groaned finally turning to look at one of us.

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean," Sam turned to look at him with determined eyes. But his voice didn't match. It was light and quiet, like he was trying not to cry or something. Obvious Sam voice. It's like this whole "wounded" persona he can do. Big, watery eyes, soft, caring voice, slumped, defeated shoulders, twitching frown, continuous glances to the ground like he's guilty – the guy has a method. And he usually gets his way. And then I end up not having whatever I had, or doing whatever I was doing, and it just sucks when he uses it against me.

Dean wasn't buying Sam's voice though, and I think it was because he wasn't looking at his face. I mean, it had to be because he wasn't looking at Sam's face anymore, and was only hearing the voice. If he _had _been looking Sam in the face, there is no way he could have been as bitter as he was. Dean taught Sam this look. He knows its power. It's like; Sam has the entire human race's kryptonite. Honest. No one can resist Sam's face. Sam can't even resist the face, which is probably good it's him doing it because otherwise there might be a sad, wounded implosion and I don't even know what would happen then. "You know what I've got faith in?" Dean asked us, still staring ahead to the tent. "Reality. Knowing what's really going on."

What a Debbie Downer. Can't this guy just play along for one afternoon? He's so convinced he's gonna die and that I'm just going to have to deal with it, and I'm the crazy one for refusing to accept his demise? Look at the kettle calling the pot metal. Wait, that's not right. Black? Iron? Whatever the hell they call each other, he's copying them. "You don't think this guy can be real? With how we grew up, you can't see that this might have a fighting chance of maybe working?"

"How can you be a skeptic?" Sam pushed. "With the things we see _every_ day?"

"Exactly. We see them, we know they're real," Dean explained while rolling his head and looking up at Sam.

I bit my lip before I played with the gravel under my feet. "How," I started before having to clear my throat. "How do you know this won't work, Dean? What if you see it work? What then?"

Dean turned to look at me with hard, yet soft eyes. I don't know if you can get what I'm explaining to you, but Dean can do that. They make you feel like he's in charge and protective, but they are also pleading that you understand and listen to him – for your own good. They're the same eyes my dad always gave me. "Then he's evil, and we do our job."

"But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?" I quickly argued. I was giving him un-approving eyes; the same eyes that I used to give him when we were younger and we would fight. I guess you could call them, "naïve Becca" eyes. The eyes where I wanted to find innocence that mimicked my own, just like Sam's eyes always do now. Those eyes, full of hope.

And Dean's reaction was the same it had always been when I had those eyes. His face fell a little bit while his eyes silently begged that I would leave it alone and that he wished I understood. That face that hoped I would remain naïve and oblivious, even though I never really had been. He slowly dragged a pale hand over his tired face. "Because," he answered slightly rough, "I've seen what evil does to good people."

Was that face meant for me? Was I the good people? Did evil ruin me? Am I _ruined_? Why are there so many questions in my life lately? Who is this random lady that has appeared next to us and smiling? "Maybe God works in mysterious ways," she stated simply while nodding at us.

Would you believe that even in the middle of a heated discussion and while standing on what he has been referring to as "death's doorstep", that my brother would somehow manage to smile and throw his "_I want you, you want me, let's make whoopee_" face on? Because he did. I don't know how, but the boob totally did. "Maybe he does," Dean told her while clearly checking her out with a very inappropriate grin for church. "I think you just turned me around on the subject."

The lady smirked and shot us all a look before settling her eyes back on Dean. "Yeah, I'm sure," she toyed.

Both of them are sinners. Complete and total sinners. No amount of prayer can save them. "I'm Dean," he told her, still wearing the smirk. "This is Sam, and Becca," he introduced.

The lady took Dean's hand and shook it. "Layla," she announced. Wait, like, the song? Great. Bet we hear _that_ for the next however many miles. I mean by him singing, by the way. Not from some tape. Dean will probably sing the song. "So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?"

Dropping his hand and trying to act smooth, Dean stuffed his hand into his pocket. "Well, apparently my siblings here believe enough for the both of us."

I caught Sam's eyes, and I stuck a tongue in my cheek. He just looked at his feet before raising his own eyes and sticking a tongue in his cheek so that we wore the same face. An older woman came over to our group and wrapped an arm around Layla while sort of using her other hand to put on Layla's other arm to guide her away from us. "Come on, Layla. It's about to start," she told Layla quietly before smiling and moving into the tent.

We all watched as they entered the tent before Dean's infamous smile came back and he stared at the "door" they'd just walked through. "Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways."

Seriously. This guy is headed straight for the fiery furnace below.

* * *

I was at the front of the tent, trying to find us enough seats and had just managed to score three in like the second row. Lucky us it was right behind Layla and her mother. If these two sin while we're sitting here, I will have the healer guy curse them. I laid my jacket across the bench, and stood just inside of it, waving over Sam who was talking to Dean. He had been trying to sit in the back, which is typical, but Sam definitely instructed that I move us as close as possible to this Roy guy. I saw Sam wrap a large arm around Dean and basically pick him up and drag him over to where I was, sitting Dean between us.

"Perfect," Sam smiled to me, as I grabbed my jacket and I scooted over so Dean could sit comfortably.

"Yeah," Dean shot me a roll of the eyes and a sarcastic voice, "perfect."

Just as I went to grab Dean's arm and help guide him in, Sam stepped in front of me, and nodded to the seat at the end. "You take the aisle," he offered. I sat down, not understanding why Sam wouldn't just put Dean between us. I mean, wouldn't be easier if there were two people to help him instead of just Sam? I probably owe Dean more help anyway. Sam can't hog the help! I leaned back and saw Sam try to help Dean sit when instead Dean just raised a hand that totally read "_back up off me or I will hurt you in public_" and I smiled. Dean probably wouldn't have done that if I were the one trying to help him. Oh who am I kidding, yes he would have.

Just as Dean sat down a voice from in front of us caught my attention, and there was a man wearing sunglasses up on the stage whatever thing that hadn't been there before. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?" he asked to a large murmur of agreement. "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act." Tell me about it, guy. "But, I say to you, God is watching." Which is why Dean trying to do the eye dirty with Layla outside probably isn't going to help very much with us trying to get him all fixed. I sat in silence and listened while the crowd around us agreed with a "_Yes he is_." "God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt," the guy up front continued. I jumped as the crowd continued to vocally agree and then some people even cheered. This is_ NOT_ like the last church place we were in. "It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me to see into people's hearts." All right. Now I'm starting to think this is sounding a little bit sketch. The _Lord_ is working through this LeWhatever? Um, I don't know about you, but every time I have met someone who has someone or something _working_ through them, it's never good. It's always bad. Could this be the evil that Dean was talking about? "You think so, young man?" the guy asked suddenly, breaking me out of my zoning. I quickly looked around, trying to find out who he was talking to. And of course it's my brother. Damn it, Dean. Crap. Now I'm going Hell, too.

"Sorry," Dean answered, a little surprised that the guy even seemed to hear him.

"No, no," the man chuckled. "Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears." Damn it, Dean, way to insult the blind man. Aw crap, I just swore in church. Twice. Ugh. I pinched the bridge of my nose as the man continued on while the crowd around us laughed. "What's your name, son?"

I leaned around Sam and stared at Dean wide eyed. Well, good luck getting away with that one. And I don't think you can really _lie_ right now, considering we're sort of in a church. Dean met my eyes and licked his lips before clearing his throat. "Dean," he managed to force out.

The guy nodded to himself and stepped a little closer to the edge of the stage thing. "Dean… I want – I want you to come up here with me," he suddenly spoke. The entire crowd around us started to clap and I felt goose bumps cover my entire body. What did Dean just do? The lady that the man had said was his wife was smiling at Dean and now standing in the middle of the stage. What is going on?

Dean immediately shook his head and held up a hand. "No, it's okay," he told them.

Sam turned and blocked part of my vision while he tried to whisper out, "What are you doing?!" Why the guy cut in with, "You've come here to be healed, haven't cha?"

Catching Sam's eyes, then my eyes, and then the guy's sunglasses, Dean stuttered out, "Well, yeah, but ahh," only to stop and look around a bit while the crowd started to clap loudly again and encouraged him to go up on the stage. "…maybe you should just pick someone else," he finally decided.

What? Pick someone else? Um, didn't we just drive all the way here so Dean could be fixed? If this guy was going to fix him and not send him to the fiery pit for eyeing Layla like that, then damn it, he's going to be healed. CRAP! I DID IT AGAIN! "Oh, no. I didn't pick you, Dean," Roy smiled over to where we were still staring at Dean, "the Lord did."

The crowd was _way_ more excited as they started yelling out, "That's right!" and, "Yeah!" and even, "Come on!" WHERE ARE WE?! Jeez.

Sam all but shoved Dean right off the bench as he excitedly ordered Dean up there. I bit my bottom lip and caught Dean's eyes. I could see the battle going on in his mind as he debated whether or not it was a good idea. I didn't even know if it was a good idea. I definitely don't want him dead. No one does. But part of me thinks he might be right. How do we know this guy isn't evil? We don't normally see good in our day to day life, so how do we just accept that someone _is_ actually good? Neither of us blinked, and I finally let my naïve side take over as I closed my eyes and nodded a small nod.

And with that, Dean slowly pushed himself up and walked towards the stage, where Sue Ann instantly moved to help him up next to Roy. Which is good, because I was in the process of getting up to help him when Sam's giant arm pushed and locked me back into my seat.

Roy looked down, well, bent his head down, and asked Dean a question that I couldn't really manage to hear, but trust me, I tried. Dean didn't answer right away, but I saw him hang his head and then shake those few times and I immediately knew some sort of dumb comment was going to come out of his mouth. I didn't hear the response, but then Roy moved his head up and looked, well, faced the crowd and smiled while loudly saying, "Pray with me, friends!" I gazed in wonder as everyone raised their hands in to the air and grabbed hands with their next door neighbor. I even jumped and almost screamed as the lady next to me grabbed my casted hand and pulled it up. Looking back at Sam with wild eyes, silently questioning what was happening, I couldn't even think of what to say out loud. I didn't like this. Something about this didn't make sense to me-, and there was a feeling in my gut that told me this was not right. My eyes shot over to Dean who seemed to be swaying on the spot.

My insides were twisting. Dean wasn't getting better; he was obviously struggling to stay up, right here in front of everyone. Roy was muttering something under his breath that I couldn't hear, but his lips were definitely moving. I went to stand up and go to Dean, when Sam practically pinned me to my seat, anxiously watching what was happening in front of us. I didn't have a good feeling about this. I felt cold, and nauseous, and I just generally didn't like it at all. And then Dean fell to the floor. Roy's hand hovered there in the air as Dean slumped to the ground and laid there, not moving. I practically ran Sam over as I bolted past him and to Dean's side, pulling him on to his back. "Dean!" I spoke sternly as Sam came right behind me. I tried to straighten his head so he was looking up, but his eyes were closed. "Come on," I seethed as I shook his face slightly. "Sam, he's not moving!" I yelled out as the crowd behind us clapped louder and louder until the sound was drumming in my ears alongside their cheering. "Come on," I begged. When he still didn't respond, I turned to Sam, tears in my eyes. "Sam, help me, please," I pleaded to him.

He immediately moved and pulled Dean up by the front of his hoodie, and growled out his name. It was like something snapped inside of our brother as Dean's eyes snapped open and he gasped as though he was breathing for the first time after being under water. Dean didn't seem to register what was going on and he blinked a few times before looking up and then scrunching his face for a moment and then his eyes widened. I looked around the stage, and the only thing that was standing there was Roy, and I didn't understand what was going on as Sam yelled for Dean to say something to let us know he was okay. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I looked back to my brother who was now sitting up thanks to Sam, and the only thing I could seem to focus on was that Dean's color was back and the dark circles under his eyes were gone. He looked normal. He looked like Dean. He was going to live.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-eight.**

**So sorry about the late update. I have been swamped like no other. You are all very kind for having stuck with me through all of it, though, and I cannot explain my gratitude enough. To make up for the delay, I have fit the rest of the episode in this chapter to the best of my ability. Therefore, this episode is mega long. I hope you like it. :) But, because it's 4:07am, I want you to know (and understand) that there has been no deep proofreading. I'll get to it... one day.**

**A million thanks to the readers/reviewers/PMers/adders! You're the absolute best. I promise. I love each and every one of you to the ends of the earth. I owe you so much.  
Extra, extra thanks to the amazing Jenmm31 who read through and helped me out with this chapter. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have been able to get this posted. Do be sure to check out her page and read/review/add her stories.**

**Speaking of reading stories!  
If you are a fan of ****_Harry Potter_****, and really enjoy new concepts and twists (that I'm totally sure you won't consider the common type of fic), I definitely suggest you head on over to read ****_Ubi Minime Exspectes_**** by "t. nm. ec. bd" (Be sure to remove the spaces between the periods. I only put them there because the name doesn't show up in my chapter otherwise. You can find quick links to this in the "Favorites" tabs on my "Profile"). It's a really great concept and twist, and I enjoy it so much, and really think you will, too. Be sure to read, add, and review!**

**Also! In case you have missed it, I have started a second fic titled ****_Baby Becca_**** which is also on my page! It is a plethora of pre-series moments between Becca and her brothers (and even John). Please be sure to check that story out, because I explore some new ways of writing that you might be interested in. :)**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

This isn't right. Nope. Not even a little bit. None of this is making sense. Not a single part of it. Just all of a sudden, because a blind guy does some mumbo jumbo and holds out a hand, Dean is healed? I mean, yeah, I saw it, but that doesn't mean it makes sense. A lot of things don't make sense when you see them. For instance. How, after a freaking ship blew up, does an entire statue stay whole and then how does a freaking fish get it into a cave so that his mermaid best friend can drool over it? How does a Chihuahua have a puppy with a Great Dane? How does Ferris not get caught on his day off? NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE! And that is why I agreed when Sam said we had to come to the hospital. What I _didn't_ agree to was waiting for this doctor to take his sweet time with running all these tests and getting back to us. Oh, no, please, just waste my time. I just ate my weight in fingernails while sitting here, and my leg has been bouncing more than a kangaroo on the run, but it's cool. I'll just sit and wait.

Sam was sighing and rolling his eyes at me as I continued to impatiently wait in the chair next to the bed. I had been focused on the outlet that sat under the window ever since we'd walked in here. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I broke my focus, blinking a few times before looking up at him to see the one raised eyebrow and crooked lips that silently told me to knock it off and relax. This was just a lot in such a short span of time, you know? I mean, Dean gets zapped, Dean goes to hospital, Dean is told he's going to die, I break Dean out of hospital, go to motel, drive to blind faith healer guy, Dean faints. That's been my life for the last like, week or so – in case you tuned out for a minute or something.

Since Sam took away my feast of keratin, my leg started bouncing even harder to the point that I ended up pushing myself off of the chair and started pacing the room. "So you're okay. You're fine now," I repeated the words that Dean had told me a million times already. "You don't know what happened, but everything is fine. All of a sudden," I was more or less muttering instead of talking out loud, trying to run it all through my mind. Stopping at the tall dresser that sat opposite the bed, I turned on my heel and looked up to face my brothers. One was sitting on the bed, bent arm, palm on his thigh while he eyed me with a look that read, "_you wanna tell me what's going on here or am I really going to have to ask_"? My other brother was bent over, gripping the back of the chair I had been in, his eyes watching my every move and his face full of sympathy and concern; like he could be up and ready to embrace me any second.

"But you said, you said that, that, that," I stuttered while trying to get my thoughts lined up and to work with me instead of against me. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I tried to calm down. "You _said_ that if it worked, then he was evil. Does that mean that you _aren't_ okay? Does that mean that you're like, just some empty, body _thing_ holding all these evil bits and pieces inside? You said we had to do our job if he was evil, Dean. That means killing him. And if you're evil, that means killing you," I looked up and saw him catch Sam's eyes and they had a silent brother moment. "I'm not going to be able to kill you. I won't do it," the words came out so much stronger than I thought they would. I didn't even have a shaky breath. I just got the guy back. I'm not just letting him go and practically die again. And I sure as _hell_ am not going to kill him.

"Bec," Sam started, pushing himself up slightly from being crunched over the chair.

"No," I cut him off calmly with a head shake and an upraised hand. "I'm serious. If you're evil, I'm not killing you, so you better purify the hell up or whatever it is you need to do. Something happened, and I don't know what, but whatever it was, isn't right. I can feel it, like, deep in my bones. None of this makes sense. I wanted to believe it, but I can't fight the chills it gives me," I honestly told them. What I didn't tell them that I was almost afraid to look at my brother, because I wasn't sure what I was really looking at anymore. Was he good? Was he evil? Was he back to being his bitter, sarcastic, jackass self? Or was he just not even really there? It just screamed all kinds of uncertainties.

Neither one of them really answered me. Dean just dropped his bent arm and matched it with his other to rub his palms together while having a bent head and making no noise. I don't even know if he sighed. He was just silently sitting there all contemplative like he was gonna say something super amazing. Sam stepped from the chair and came to stand beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side with a light squeeze. I didn't know it before, but I definitely needed the touch or whatever you want to call it. I felt my eyes close and a shaky breath left me while I nodded towards his action. I felt better. I'd been honest. With both of them. Which is actually something I hadn't done in a while. Or maybe ever. I had done it with Dean, and _obviously_ I'd done it with Sam, but together? Not like this. That break down thing might count. But that's not the point. The point is – I don't even know what the point is. What I do know is that I want that stupid doctor to come in here and give me some answers, God damn it.

We sat there like that, my confession just surrounding us, with no response. I'd brought my hand up to my mouth and started chewing on the side of my thumb when Sam grabbed my hand and brought it down to my side. "So, you really feel okay?" he asked Dean as I looked to him with an unhappy face and tried to shake my arm out of his vice-like grip. I was stressed, and I already couldn't fully scratch my thumb with this cast, and the fiberglass just cut at my face – so that left my left hand, and now I couldn't even bite at it, or scratch at it, and all my nails were gone.

Dean looked up at us with a deep sigh. "I feel fine, Sam," he stated. He looked fine. Really. He looked unhappy and upset, but physically fine. He didn't look like he did before we went to Roy – meaning he was fine. Because before we went to Roy, he didn't look good at all.

I was trying to avoid Dean's eyes, and I know he was watching my face – but part of me couldn't bring myself to look up. I didn't want to see the lost look in his eyes that would tell me he was having all the same thoughts I was, meaning neither of us knew what was going on or what we would have to do. It would be too emotional. I don't need any more emotions right now. Just then footsteps echoed out of the hall and a doctor entered into the room with a bunch of paperwork in hand. She eyed us and seemed to silently ask if it was all right to talk. When we all blinked at her, waiting, she cleared her throat and stepped closer to the three of us. "Well," she said before bringing a fist up to her mouth and clearing her throat into it, "according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen."

"What do you mean strange?" I managed to get out as I struggled to not pace the room again with this new rush of information. I felt myself instinctively lean into Sam, as though he was my support beam. I honestly don't know if I could have taken all of this in if he hadn't been there next to me.

The doctor shook her head. "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like him," she indicated to Dean with a nod, "twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack."

"Thanks, Doc," Dean told her, with eyes that said we were finished here.

Smiling kindly, the doctor slapped her tests and everything against her opposite hand. "No problem," she told us before giving us each a nod and then leaving.

The minute the doctor's footsteps disappeared, Dean looked over to us with large, contemplative eyes. "That's odd," he stated simply.

Sam's arm was no longer around me. He'd removed it and stuck his hands in his pockets before shrugging. "Maybe it's a coincidence. People's hearts give out all the time, man."

"No, they don't," I quietly responded, shaking my head. Not for people who are twenty-seven and athletic, at least. Okay, I'm not a doctor, so I don't _really_ know, but the guy said it was strange. So that means that it _doesn't_ happen all the time. There is something not right here, and I don't like that it's chosen my family to settle upon. It's _always_ my family.

"Look, you guys, do we really have to look this one in the mouth?" Sam pressed as he stood between us, looking disapproving at our sour faces. "Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved Dean's life, and move on?"

"Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why," Dean announced. I looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes.

I sighed and stepped past Sam to sit on the bed next to Dean. We were close, but not touching, and both staring forward, to the chair I had been sitting in earlier. It was awkward, but not. Does that make sense? I'd basically just told the guy that I didn't know if I trusted it was _him_, and now I'm sitting here trying to make it look like I knew he was my brother and was okay. If he was evil though, the doctor would have found something, or Dean would be… snarkier, right? I'm just a big ball of lost right now. But, I won't lie, it did make me feel better to know that he had some weird-o feeling about all of it, too. He felt like something was wrong. However, I don't know if that made me feel better or worse. He is supposed to be all, "_oh, no, Becs, you're freaking out over nothing. I'm fine, the doctor said that there's nothing wrong, and you're overreacting_" or "_I get what you're saying. And I'll fix it, we'll figure it all out, and make it all better_". NOT "_I also don't know what's going on and have a bad feeling about all of it_." Damn it, Dean. I knew his _feeling_ wasn't going to be a good one, just from the way he said it all, but I had to ask. "What feeling?"

He rubbed his hands together and shrugged. "When I was _healed_," he said the word like he didn't believe it to be true, "I just… I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second…I saw someone."

"Wait, _saw_ someone?" I cut in, turning my head to look at him. "What do you mean you _saw_ someone? What kind of someone?" I knew this was wrong. Nope. This guy did something to my brother, and now I'm pissed. And freaked out. I'd hopped off of the bed and started pacing again. I was allowed to _think_ that someone had done something, because that didn't necessarily make it true. But the fact that it _is_ true, oh, no. Uh uh. Someone has messed with my family, and now we don't know what has happened, or what is going on, and I do _not_ approve of this. Not only has my brother been poofed into healthiness, but now he's seeing people, too? And this random guy's heart stops? No. Something is wrong.

"Stop pacing, you're making me nervous," Dean barked as I'd gone to pivot in front of him. Instead, I was grabbed and forced to sit down on the bed beside him. "Yeah, I saw someone. This, uh, this old man," he told us. "And I'm telling you. It was a spirit."

Great, now we have old man spirits that can only be seen by the half dead. Because that sounds like something that will be easy to beat. "Well, then we have to find it, and get rid of it. We can't have this thing going around and just, doing whatever it does to people!" I decided from where I'd gone to stand back up, but Dean's firm grasp on my shoulder kept me seated.

Sam shook his head. "What if this spirit is what healed Dean?" he questioned, coming to stand in front of us.

"Then I'll shake his hand and give him a thank-you card. But we can't be sure. Come on, Sam, when have we ever known a spirit to be a _positive_ thing? They don't just do good and then go on their merry way."

"We don't even know that there was something really there," Sam smiled that disbelieving grin he often had. "If something _was_ there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

Dean growled and pushed himself off of the bed. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one. Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling on this."

Sam looked at me, nodding his head. "And you?"

I bit my lip before standing up slowly. "Let's just say I've learned to trust my gut and head a little bit more now."

Sighing, and dropping his hands as though he'd been given no other choice, Sam shifted his stance. "Yeah, all right. So what do you wanna do?"

"I want you two to go check out the heart attack guy. I'm gonna visit the reverend," Dean instructed, meeting my eyes.

I accepted this. Normally I would have gone with Dean because I would have wanted to make sure nothing happened to him, but right now, I kind of wanted a little bit of time to just… re-evaluate? I don't know. But I needed to talk to Sam, about Dean, and even though it's totally possible to do that in front of Dean, I think it might be best to not touch this subject. At least not in front of him.

* * *

I stood on the sidewalk with Sam, waiting for the Impala to drive away and round a corner or something. I couldn't exactly tackle Sam into a corner and spill my guts to him with Dean being able to see in the rear view – that would only make him turn around or ask questions later. Neither of those situations are enjoyable. Trust me. The minute the growl of the engine faded, I tightly grabbed onto Sam's arm and walked him into the building – just to be on the safe side that Dean didn't have Go-Go Gadget Super Vision – and forced him to face me.

He looked taken off guard as I whipped him around. "I really, _really_ need to talk to you. Right now," I confessed.

I don't know what my face looked like, but it couldn't have been cheery since Sam's quickly nodded and led me into an empty area that stood off to the side of the hall. What are these things called? Some houses have them, you know, like, off the back of a living room or something? Like, okay, _Full House_, that thing that Joey slept in for like, a month? Behind the couch in the living room, under the stairs, off the laundry room thing. I know you know what I mean. Anyway! This place had one, too, and we were in it. Once he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one followed us, he looked down at me, concerned and curious. "What's wrong?" he immediately questioned.

"Sam, I don't like, this," I practically burst with the words I'd been holding in since Dean had been healed. "Something is not right. I don't trust it, okay? I just, I don't. I mean, why… how… I just…" I didn't know how to express just what is was that was on my mind. I didn't know what to say or do.

Putting his hands on my shoulders, Sam drew my eyes up towards his face. "Stop, okay, you're working yourself up. Remember what you said before we went in that tent?"

"No."

Smiling slightly, Sam scoffed a little bit. "You said to give LeGrange a chance, remember?"

"Yeah, but Sam, what he did isn't normal! I mean, who instantly gets fixed like that!?" I began to get louder and higher pitched with my frantic words.

Shaking me slightly, Sam stopped me. "You also said that with how we grew up, that there might be a fighting chance of it working. You saw it work, Bec."

Running my hand through my hair, I groaned. Sam was right. I did say that. But that was before I saw it actually work. Now I wasn't so sure. "But remember what _Dean_ said? He said that if it did work, that meant that Roy was evil, and we were going to have to do our job. Sam, it worked. Okay, I mean, there is no doubt about that. Dean is obviously all better, and I'm beyond happy for that – I really, really am. I didn't want to see him die, all right? So I needed to believe, but now, now I don't know if that was right. I mean, could this be my fault, our fault, all those people? What if Roy's not even the bad guy, what if we're the bad guy? Does that mean that what I did was evil? And then Dean is going to have to – oh my God. It was. That's why. Faith healer, and we had faith, and SAM WE DID THIS!" I yelled as I reached forward and grabbed his jacket, shaking him forcefully. My eyes were wide and worried, and I felt fear rush into my veins.

Sam was completely lost. I don't think he was able to keep up with my crazy ramble and now here I was, shaking him like he was some sort of rag doll or something. "Okay, sit down," he grabbed my hands off of his jacket and led me to where a few chairs were. "Now, you didn't… I didn't… what?" he tilted his head, obviously not knowing what I'd just told him.

Taking a deep breath, I dropped my shoulders. "I'm freaking out here, Sam. I don't know what is going on. We saw Roy heal Dean, okay? We _saw_ it. There was no mirror, or sheet, or optical illusion – we saw it. And this isn't a partial healing deal, either. He's fixed. I can see it. Dean isn't going to die, at least not because of what happened. Maybe because of too much bacon or pie overload, or maybe his car will run him over, which would be ironic because of how in love he is with it, and I mean, it rea –"

"Focus, Becca," Sam was sighing.

"Sorry. I'm just, I mean… okay. Roy is a faith healer, right? Well, all those people in that tent, you and I included, had faith in Roy being able to fix Dean. Does that mean that _we_ empowered him? Are we the reason that Dean is better?"

I looked at him and waited. You could see he wasn't expecting that to be my concern. I just had a ton of things swirling around inside of me right now, and way back when, I went to Sam with my problems, and he helped the swirls go away. I needed him to make the swirls go away. "I don't… All right, you said that if we know that evil's out there, then it makes sense to believe that good is out there, too. Dean being healed is good, right?" I nodded my head in agreement. Dean being healed _is _good, it's how he ended up healed that I have an issue with. "Okay, then if you're going to believe in anything in the whole world being good, believe in this. Believe in what you saw. Know that Dean not on the verge of death," he growled, pointing towards the door that led outside, "is good. It's what you believe that makes it real, okay?"

I stared at him, and blinked. "Sam, that doesn't even make any sense! What makes sense is that Dean said he saw something. What if Roy brought that spirit thing here? That makes him evil – which makes what happened to Dean evil, and I don't know what that makes Dean right now."

He watched me and leaned back, allowing my spoken thought to sink in. "Is that what you're worried about? Dean being evil?"

"Well, yeah," I threw my hands in the air. I thought all of this was obvious. "Dean said we kill evil things, Sam. If Dean is evil, he's going to make us kill him. Sam, I can't kill him, I won't be able to. I couldn't even pull the trigger on that shifter back in St. Louis. There's no way I'm going to be able to do it to the real thing… We just got him back. I don't want to watch him face death again. I won't be able to handle it." A few tears dripped down my cheeks, but it wasn't anything major. Bringing my shirt sleeve over my hand, I used it to wipe my face dry.

Sam gave me his sympathetic, sad face. And it's different from his kicked puppy face – which is different from the kicked puppy, smashed sandcastle face. Seriously. I don't know how he does it. "Come on, Bec. You know Dean isn't evil," he told me, earning a look from me. Chuckling, he pushed on. "No, seriously. He's a jerk, I'll give you that, but he's not evil. Him wanting to figure out what he saw and fix all of this proves he's not evil."

"And say he isn't evil, but what happened to make him better is. We are a part of that, Sam. We took him to that faith healer, and even if I didn't crazy pray like all those people in that tent did, I believed, and so did you – because if we hadn't believed, we wouldn't have bothered, you know? What does that say about us? Are we evil?"

"Do you think I'm evil?"

"I don't think evil could even survive inside you, Sam. You're like, too nice for your own good. You're basically a push-over," I responded.

He made a face at me. "I am not a push-over!"

Rolling my eyes, I ignored his protest. The guy is totally a push-over. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have come back. "Am I evil?" I quietly asked while staring at my hands in my lap, afraid he'd tell me I was.

But he didn't. He just stood up, and then pulled me up with him. "No, Bec, you're not evil. You're just… lost."

"You are not a good motivational speaker. I hope you are better at law then you are with counseling," I sighed before shifting my stance on my feet. "I don't like being lost, Sam. It sucks. You know, I don't even think I was lost 'til _you_ came back. This is all your fault."

"Whatever," he scoffed, pushing me so I fell back into the chair, before walking back out into the main hall of the building.

Standing up, I fixed my shirt and pursed my lips. Not really sure if Sam's little "talk" helped or not. I felt vaguely better, but not… assured?

* * *

"You learn anything that can help us?" I questioned without looking up as I continued to sit on the front steps of the building. Sam walked down the stairs and then sat down beside me. I'd been waiting here from the minute Sam met with the employee. Something about me not being able to go in the men's locker room, and it being pointless for me to walk all the way around the pool, ended up with me waiting outside. Like a dog.

"Well," he smiled, clapping his hands together and looking at me with that smile that read, "_check it out_". "Apparently, Marshall Hall was running before he collapsed. According to the guy I was talking to, he was freaking out, saying something was after him."

I scrunched up my brows, but didn't remove my chin from where it was being propped up in my hand. "Okay… Did he say _what_ it was that was chasing him?" I looked to my side and saw Sam's expression. "Figures," I sighed, finally dropping my hand. "All right. So we have this guy, who was, what? Some sort of smoker, or druggie or something? That would make sense for hallucination that something was after him."

He didn't look at me, just squinted his eyes against the sun. "Nope. He was a total health nut. Swam every day, didn't smoke, lived a healthy life."

"I hate this job," I groaned, stacking my arms on one another and then burying my head in my lap.

"Well, there is the clock thing."

"What clock thing?" I yelled out from my small enclosure so he could understand me.

"The clock in the pool area. It's broken; frozen on the time it stopped moving, and they can't get it to work."

Lifting my head and rolling it so it laid on my shoulder closest to Sam, I leaned against my brother. "Broken clocks aren't exactly out of the ordinary, Sam."

Smiling he nudged me slightly. "It is when they stop at the same time the guy died."

"Ooh," I murmured. "That could be something."

"Yeah, uh, there's more," he seemed to be a little uncertain about what he was going to say next. Picking my head up off of his shoulder, I looked at the side of his face. He was definitely torn about it. "The, uh, the clock is stuck on 4:17."

I couldn't even blink. "You sure?" I quietly asked.

He dropped his head. "I can read a clock."

"4:17 is when Dean was healed…"

"I know."

"That means that this guy's death is directly connected with Dean's healing."

"I know."

"That means… that it's evil."

"…I know."

* * *

I was wandering aimlessly down a path in what the sign had said was a park. It looked more like a random bunch of woods. And to be honest, I was numb to it. Wasn't even scared, just… thinking. Sam had gone back to the motel, and I told him I'd needed a minute to try and work it all out by myself, so here I was. And there was no one around, so that was helpful. Sticking my hands in my sleeves, I sighed. There was a bench nearby, and I sat on it, staring ahead at the empty path. This was just an overflow of confusion. I needed a second to sort it all out, and surprisingly, this quiet forest place was soothing me.

It was evil. Whatever had happened to Dean was done from something evil. I didn't know what this meant. What would happen when Dean found out? Would he freak out, and scream? Yell at Sam? Throw something and say we needed to undo it? Probably all of the above, really. All of this just pretty much sucks. And, I think most of it sucks because I am even more sure that I am partially evil. And that Sam and I brought this on Dean, we caused this to happen. Would it have been better if we had just let Dean _die_? No. That's the worst outcome of all. I would rather be the devil himself than let one of my brothers die. I'd do anything to keep them alive. Or at least I say I would… I'm kind of really bad with the pulling through and showing that though, huh? Putting my head into my hands, I dug my elbows into my thigh, and closed my eyes. This wasn't getting better. It was getting… complicated-er. Evil meant that it needed to die. But what exactly had been the evil part? I think we can rule out Sam being the evil part. And let's just rule me out for good measure – unless nothing else ends up being the answer.

Well, obviously Roy was the evil thing. He'd healed Dean, which in turn killed Marshall Hall. So it had to be Roy… but how? I'd been right there. He hadn't gone anywhere, or conjured up anything. Conjuring includes a lot more than just a hand on someone's head. You need a bunch of random things depending on what you want to call – and even then, whatever you "call", others can see. And, the only one who saw anything out of the ordinary was Dean. Ugh, this is so hard.

Okay, let me work it out like I would if I were with the guys. What do we know? We know that Roy was able to completely heal Dean, to beyond healthy. He was practically brand new. And when Dean was healed, a completely healthy person dropped dead, at the same time. Which is weird, and I've never heard of a spirit being able to do that. Which means it can't be just some ordinary spirit, or it could not be a spirit all together. And that leaves me clueless as to what it could be. But apparently it can't be seen by anyone not being affected. So that means that only Dean and Marshall could see it, which means…

"Hello?" I heard someone call out in the distance.

Snapping my head up, I looked around me, wondering if the person was trying to get my attention. I didn't see anyone around me, and I furrowed my brows. Am I hearing random people now, too? Oh great, now I'm freaking cursed or something. That's probably what this all is. A curse. Dean's healing cursed another person who died, and now I'm gonna die. Great. And freaking in the woods.

Standing up, I stepped away from my bench, which of course just _had_ to be a couple of feet off the direct path. Stepping up to the path, and looking down each end, I saw a woman bent over, struggling to breathe. Rushing down the path to her, I grabbed her shoulders, and bent down.

"Hey, hey, lady, are you okay? Do you want me to call 9-1-1?" I asked her, trying to get her to focus on me. She placed a hand on my shoulder and looked completely panicked when her eyes met mine. Swallowing, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. Helping her stand up straight, the woman turned around and jumped about thirty feet in the air. Pushing me out of the way, she stared behind her, and ran away, heading further down the path.

Continuing to look back at me, with complete fear, she began to trip over her own feet. I searched around me, finding nothing, and saw the woman start to slow down clutch at her chest. With my luck this lady is having a heart attack. Running after her, I sped up when I saw her seem to run into a wall, and then fall to her knees. Throwing myself in front of her, I placed my hands on the side of her face. When her chilly hands grabbed my wrists, I moved my hands to her arm and tried to help her up, but it was like she was glued to the ground. A deep, dark, cut to the bone, chill entered into my body. I felt myself almost seem to freeze at the coldness, and shivered. My eyes widened as the woman began to choke and her face started to drain of all her color, her eyes glazing over and going white.

"Hey, come on, stay with me lady, no, don't do this," I pleaded as she clutched at my shirt and struggled for any breath at all, until she stopped breathing and dropped to the ground like I hadn't even been there, trying to hold her up.

The minute the lady's body hit the ground the cold that seemed to have taken over me was gone, and I felt like a huge weight had been removed and I could move freely again. Swallowing hard, I fumbled to dig my phone out of my pocket and dial the police.

* * *

I turned away from the scene where the police were removing the woman's body, and ran a hand through my hair. "She just, died, Sam. I don't know how. The coroner isn't certain, but from what the cops told him, he's guessing her heart just _stopped_, just like Marshall."

"Did you see anything, Becca?" Dean asked over the phone.

"No, but something was after her," I insisted.

"You sure?"

Nodding my head, I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Yeah. Positive. Something was chasing her, guys. She was terrified. She kept looking back over her shoulder, like it was getting closer or something. Then, when I bent down to try and help her…"

I ran my hand through my hair again a few more times, not knowing if I should tell them. "What, Becca, what happened?" Sam's voice urged me on calmly and gently.

Facing the police officer who had come to tap my shoulder, I took his card and held up a hand as a sign of thanks. He'd taken my statement earlier, thanking me for calling in the body and trying to help her out. Then he'd stayed by my side while the paramedics checked me over, making sure I was okay and not traumatized and in shock. If they only knew the amount of dead bodies and deaths I've seen. They'd be the traumatized ones then. "Yeah, so," I stepped away from the crowd and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece. "When I went to help her, when she fell the ground and I bent down in front of her, I got really cold. Like, _really_ cold. You know how when a spirit enters a room, and like, comes by you and all that? That's how cold I got. And then it felt like something was weighing me down. Almost as if everything around me was slow moving and heavy. I can't explain it. I just didn't… it was… terrifying."

"You sure you're okay?" I heard Dean gruffly ask.

"I don't know. I mean, I feel fine, and the paramedics didn't find anything wrong. It was just… that coldness and heaviness… Like, I was in the way or something was keeping me down to make that lady die."

"Did you see what was after her?" Sam questioned.

Shaking my head, I sat down on my bench from earlier. "No. I didn't. There was nothing there."

I heard a chair scratch on the other line, and then there was a light _thunk_. "Then it wasn't after you."

"Wait, _what_ wasn't after me? Do you guys know what we're dealing with?" I asked urgently, whispering so that lingering officers wouldn't hear. No words passed into my ear, and I knew that they were just looking at each other like they do. This is why people think they're a couple. Because they have that freaky eye communication thing. What a bunch of freaks. "Guys, blink and tell me what is going on. What killed this lady?"

It took a little more time, but Dean's voice finally broke the silence. "We're dealing with a reaper," he stated.

"Like, the _Grim_ Reaper? Mr. I'm gonna snag you with my super sharp, gonna cut you in half, slice-y hook thing? I don't think that's right. I would have seen him," I sighed, slouching down into the bench.

Sam agreed. "Yeah, Dean, the Grim Reaper isn't just there. He's the angel of death, collector of soul, you know? The whole deal."

"No, no, no, not _the_ reaper, _a_ reaper," Dean explained. I didn't hear any difference. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them."

"How do you know all this?" I questioned him as though he was some strange kid who told me about the average day in the life of a platypus or something.

"But you said you saw a dude in a suit," Sam quickly piped in, stopping my question from being answered.

Changing ears, I bent my head to hold the phone between my right ear and shoulder. "There was no guy in a suit," I told them as I waved a good-bye to the final cops that were leaving the crime scene.

There was a scoff. "What, you think he should 'a been working the whole black robe thing?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"You said yourself, Sam, that the clock stopped, right? Reapers stop time. And you said that the lady was being chased by something that you couldn't see, right, Becca? Well, you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

"I guess," I gave in, feeling defeated, just as Sam said, "Maybe."

I could hear a light rustling, unsure of what the noise could be. "There's nothing else it could be, guys. The question is, how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

Chewing on the side of my thumb, I watched a squirrel run up one of the trees that sat on the opening of the path where the lady had come running from. "That cross!" Sam suddenly stated, as though he'd found the long lost answer. At least he had an idea, I was sitting over here with nothing.

"What?" Dean and I questioned at the same time.

"There was this cross," I heard Sam say as he rifled through some papers and seemed to be incapable of multitasking. "I noticed it in the church and I knew I had seen it before." *Then there was silence, followed by a snort, and a quick, "Here," before there was silence once more.

"A Tarot?" Dean asked skeptically.

Like, a Tarot _card_? That could work. "It makes sense, Dean," I quickly put my own two cents in. "Tarots date super far back, right? Like, practically the beginning of Christianity? When priests were still using magic before the church and such outlawed it. Well, some of them probably went all Dark Side."

"Right. They messed with necromancy, and how to not only push death away, but how to cause it," Sam added.

You know what, I really dislike trying to figure out a case when they are together and I am not there. They get to do all the hands on crap and see everything, and here I sit, feeling all out of the loop. As it was they were definitely having those eye talk things, and I couldn't see that to join in, so now I'm _really_ out of the loop. And to make matters worse, I'm actually hung up on a lot when this happens. Seriously. They forget I'm on the phone, and then they just hang it up like the butt dialed me, or they start to dial someone else, and get all shocked when I'm whistling in their ears. Morons.

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?" Dean posed after a few moments.

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind," Sam responded. "It's like putting a dog leash on a great white."

"Can you put a dog leash on a great white?" I innocently inquired.

I heard a half chuckle, half "_you're an idiot_" sound emerge. "Why, you plan on tryin' it?"

"I mean, it's tempting," I shrugged.

There was a scrape of a chair on the motel floor. "Okay, well, regardless, we have to stop Roy." Dean's voice was distant and echo-y, as though he'd moved away farther away from the phone and was speaking louder for my benefit.

Hearing a click, I then heard a light _pat_ as something tapped something else. "How?" Sam pressed.

"You know how," Dean bit.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean, we can't kill Roy," Sam argued, seeming shocked at the gesture.

I wasn't shocked, though. This is exactly what Dean said would have to happen. He said that if the healing worked, it was evil – and that if it was evil, then we had to do our job. And our job was killing evil things. "Sam, the guy is playing God," I sighed out quietly. I didn't know if Dean could hear my voice, but I knew Sam could, and he was the one who had to hear me right now. "Roy is deciding who lives, and who dies. And that's not fair. It's wrong, and you know it."

"That sounds like a monster in my book," the volume of Dean's voice made me jump. IT was like I wasn't even on speaker phone anymore, and was instead talking directly to my brother.

"No," Sam insisted. "We're not going to kill a human being. We do that, and we're no better than he is."

Which makes us evil. And hello, vicious circle. Did I say that the woods were calming me down before? Because I'm stressed again, and I'm not getting any less stressed.

"Okay, we can't kill Roy, we can't kill death," Dean's temper was short, and his voice was proof to that. He didn't like Sam fighting this, and to him the only logical answer was to stop the evil at the source. When it comes to Dean, if you do bad – you are bad. Human or not. An evil human is evil first, and a human second. The bad outweighs the good, and the bad needs to be stopped. "Any bright ideas, college boy?" he bit rudely.

"Dean, relax," I scolded. That wasn't fair of him to snap on Sam. The guy is sensitive and doesn't even want to step on the cracks in the sidewalk. Of course he's going to have a problem with the idea of killing Roy. "What were you thinking, Sam?"

"Okay, uh… If Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta… figure out it is. And how to break it."

I could feel the tension between the two of them all the way over here. "All right," I tried to break it up, "but before you go searching for anything, I think you should come pick me up."

"I think you should walk," Dean teased.

"I think you should kiss my a –"

"We'll come get you," Sam assured me before the line went dead.

* * *

Who is in charge of road repair? Because they need to be fired. This is the worst road I have ever been on, and I'm sure it is causing the Impala more pain that it is me, and I think my gall bladder just bounced up and hit my lung. Ouch. Rolling past a sign that read _Service Today_, I sighed out a breath of relief when the Impala parked and shut off.

"If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book," Sam told us as we closed the doors to the car and started towards the tent.

Dean checked his watch, waving us to follow closely behind him. "See if one of you can find it. Hurry up, too. The service starts in fifteen minutes. I'll try to stall Roy."

Nodding my head, I followed them both as we came towards the man that had been taken away by the police the last time we were here. "Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer," he told Dean as he stuck out a leaflet to Dean, who took it no problem.

"Amen, Brother," he responded while clapping him on the shoulder.

"You keep up the good work," Sam told the man, spinning and accidentally clipping his shoulder causing the man to spill a bunch of his papers to the ground.

Sam didn't seem to notice, and moved on towards Roy's house that sat in the distance from the tent where Dean had just entered. Bending down, I collected as many of the dropped pamphlets as I could, trying to resituate and organize them in my small hands. "Thank you," the man nodded to me, trying to make sure all of the ones in his hands were facing the right way.

"No problem," I smiled. "You really don't like this Roy guy, huh?"

"The man is brainwashing these people," he nodded towards where Sue Ann was leading Roy towards the back of the tent, and I caught her eye – receiving a hard glare from the woman. "To claim he is able to heal all of these people. There is only one true way for people to be healed, and this main isn't it."

"Yeah," I continued to watch where Sue Ann had paused for a moment, watching the man and me carefully. "You're not the only one who thinks that guy needs to rethink his day job. Some might even say he's evil..."

A few people walked by us, and I noticed the man trying to stuff the papers into the hands of passersby, and taking a deep breath, I found myself handing them out as well. I don't think there were any other people in the lot a little while later, when I looked over the tops of a bunch of cars and saw an old man standing next to one, staring at the leaflet guy and me. He was dressed in a sharp suit, and his face was cold, covered in wrinkles.

"Hey, you seen this guy before?" I nudged the man with my elbow.

He looked around us, searching. "What guy?"

"Him, right there," I pointed as the old man started to calmly walk towards us.

Looking from where I was pointing, over to my face, the man took the papers out of my hands and gave me a look that told me he thought I was crazy. "Right. Well, thanks for trying to help me get the truth out there. You're a kind soul, Becca Winchester. May the Lord bless you," he nodded.

Turning to watch him walk away, I quickly glanced back towards where the old man was, and jumped when I saw he was standing mere inches away from me, staring down at me with a cold, hard, determined face. No. Something was wrong. This didn't feel right. The same chill that I'd felt in the park with that lady was back. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. It was like someone was sucking the air right out of my lungs, and squeezing tightly on my throat. I had to run. Spinning the best I could, I struggled to run away. Moving between cars, I ran as fast as I could, slipping on the gravel.

"Sam!" I yelled, looking over my shoulder and seeing the reaper following behind me in a walking pace, as though he knew I wouldn't get far. "Dean! Help!" I yelled the best I could. Using a trunk for support, I rounded the corner of a car and slipped on the rocks, falling to the ground. Turning over and trying to push myself away from him, the man was there, staring down at me, his hand reaching out. "Help! Help me! Sam! Dean!" I screamed, coughing, fighting for air. Pushing myself away from the hand, I looked down the aisle I'd come up to, and saw Sam looking around, searching for something. "Sam!" I yelled, panicked.

Connecting the sound of my voice with my face, he rushed over to me, and bent down, clearly upset and alarmed at my terror. "Where is he!?"

Wrapping my hands around his arm, I pulled him closer to me, and pointed to where the man was only about a foot away. "Right there, Sam, help," I coughed and choked harder, slapping a hand to my throat as it seemed to get tighter with the reaper's outstretched arm.

"Come on, let's go," Sam demanded, wrapping my arm around his shoulder, and helping me, booking it away from the reaper.

I don't think I've ever witnessed Sam to move so fast, but the farther we got away from the reaper, the easier it was for me to breath. Setting me down, and leaning me against the side of a van, he adjusted the phone he'd called Dean on. "I think it's okay," I told Sam, steadying my breaths. Peering around the side of the van, I sighed happily to see nothing. Until I went to face Sam once more. A piercing scream ripped through my throat.

"Dean, it didn't work! The reaper's still coming!" Sam yelled into the phone, grabbing my hand and tugging me away. "I'm telling you, I'm telling you it didn't work. Roy must be the one controlling this thing," he was saying as he did his absolute best to get as much distance between us and the reaper as possible.

It was like I hit a wall. Sam's hold on me disappeared, and the reaper was there, cold hands wrapped on my face. My body was suffocating. I could feel the breath leaving my system, and it was like a thousand weights were pushing me down into the ground. Looking into the reapers eyes, I tried to inhale, only for it to be strangled, and nothing to happen. Everything around me was growing blurry, and although I could hear Sam calling out my name and holding onto my arms, the hold from the reaper was tighter and pushing me down, until my knees hit the ground. His face was magnetic. I couldn't look away, and just as I felt like my lungs would burst from the lack of air, it ended, and I collapsed to the ground, Sam hovering over me as I gasped for breath.

"I got you. I got you," Sam was telling me as my breath finally wracking through me.

I couldn't answer. I was in too much shock and just allowed him to help me up and attempted to have me stand on my own.

* * *

Downing a glass of water as Dean finished his story of everything that had happened in the tent, I wiped the back of my hand… well, cast, on my mouth. "So, Roy really believes?" If I had ever doubted this being evil, I was totally accepting of it now. I guess first hand experiences will do that to you, huh? But no, I was determined to end this, and end it now.

"I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing," Dean answered honestly.

Yeah, that's right. Freaking _Sue Ann_ is the evil one. She's over here all sending reapers after me because she saw me standing with the pamphlet guy. Apparently, having your brother healed, and then associating with "the immoral" makes you a heathen or something, and means you deserve to die. And then, instead of even getting in trouble, she got Dean hauled out by the cops! Yeah! What a bitch!

"Well, I found this," Sam told us, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small book, "hidden in their library." He handed the book over to Dean, and I walked beside him to watch as he leafed through it. "It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper."

"Must be a hell of a spell."

"Yeah," Sam continued. "You gotta build a black alter with some seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher's wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil."

"Let's stab her," I suggested, sipping more of the water. I've never loved a glass of water more in my life. And I really think we should stab her. This lady tried to kill me. Like, kill me.

Shooting me a look, Dean rolled his eyes. "Desperate –"

"She tried to kill me!"

"Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him," Dean carried on. "She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy."

Setting my cup on the table, I threw my hands in the air. "Yeah, to send after me. Which makes her evil, and you said we kill evil. Who said she gets to decide who gets to live anyway. So, let's stab her."

Sam leaned forward on his knees. "She was cheating death, literally."

Leaning against the table, while I sat down, Dean crossed his arms. "Yeah, but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?"

"Because she's freaking _evil_," I dragged out. "You said if it's evil, we do our job. So let's do our job. And stab her."

"She's forcing the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral," Sam shot me a small smile, while answering Dean's question.

Dean crossed his leg over the other and gave a sarcastic nod. "May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work."

"We gotta break that binding spell, Dean," Sam decided, bringing the discussion to an much less lighter note. Not that what we had been saying had been any kind of party or something, but now things were serious…er.

Flipping through the pages of the small book again, Dean stopped and stared at a page. "You know, Sue Anne had a Coptic cross like this. When she dropped it, the reaper backed off Becca."

"So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the alter?" I mused, as he closed the book and set it down on the table next to him.

"Maybe both," he shrugged. "Whatever we do, we better do it soon, or he's healing Layla tonight."

"Wanna know a sure fire way to stop it? Stabbing her," I quipped, finishing my water.

* * *

We are so super stealth right now, that it's not even funny. I felt like I should be wearing all back, and carrying a sniper rifle or something. "That's Layla's car," Sam pointed to the vehicle that was parked ahead of us in the distance while we rolled in quietly, headlights off. "She's already here."

Dean nodded, and a depressing, "Yeah," came out. It broke my heart.

"Dean…" I quietly tried to get him to look at me.

He didn't. He just kept looking at her car. "You know, if Roy would 'a picked Layla instead of me, she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight, she's gonna die in a couple 'a months."

Yeah. Turns out that Layla has a terminal cancer type deal, and apparently she was supposed to be healed the day Dean was. When he told me about it, I didn't know how to respond, I kind of just sat there and soaked it all in. He'd said he felt guilty, and that it wasn't fair that she had to suffer either way, and that he, a guy who knew he would die from this life, got saved. Then I yelled at him and told him that he was being dumb and that I would rather Layla die a bajillion times than have him die once. He told me I was being ridiculous and needed to accept the fact that I would one day have to bury him. That's when I said that the minute he could accept having to watch me die and not doing anything to fix it, would be the minute I would accept the fact that I would have to do the same. Then Sam came in and broke up the moment, which was good, because Dean and I were glaring daggers, and gritting teeth, and crossing arms. We're just a smidge alike.

"Look, what's happening to her is horrible," Sam calmly stated. "But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself, Dean, you can't play God."

Dean didn't answer. He just stared at the wheel before I saw his jaw move with unspoken thoughts, and he then left the car without a word. Sighing, I crawled out after him, and we quietly moved to the tent, peeking inside to see Roy talking to a much smaller group of people than what I'd normally seen here.

"Where's Sue Ann?" Dean whispered as our eyes searched everywhere.

"House," Sam answered, tugging on my shirt.

Moving over to the house, Dean held out his hand and blocked us. "You guys find Sue Ann. I'll catch up."

Dean was physically pushing Sam and I away from the steps as Sam protested. "What are you gonna –"

"Shh!" I cut him off, seeing the door to the house open and two cops stepping onto the porch.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, gaining the attention of the officers. "You gonna put that fear of God in me?"

Watching from around the corner, Sam and I saw the cops drop their cups to the ground and chase after Dean, who I won't lie, can book it like a wildebeest. Wait, are wildebeests even fast runners? Because if they're slow, then he runs way faster than a wildebeest. Sam stepped out from around the corner and motioned for me to follow him to the back of the house, where there was a door with a light showing underneath it.

Working our way to the door, and doing our best to open it as quietly as we could, Sam lifted his gun, prepared to shoot. Following Sam, we came to an area where there was a table set up like an alter covered in a bunch of dead animal pieces, lots of blood, and horns, and equally disgusting stuff. Seriously. You have to TOUCH these things to put them there. Which means this psycho broad not only sent reapers after innocent people, but she killed bunny rabbits, too. Oh, she is so going down. Stepping up to the table, I looked at the center, where there was a glossy piece of paper leaning against something, blood crossing out the picture. Picking up the photo, I gasped when I saw it was Dean. Unhealthy, on the verge of death Dean – before Roy fixed him.

"Sam," I hissed, trying to show him. When I turned around, to hand him the photo, I jumped when Sue Ann appeared and spoke with a menacing tone.

"I gave your brother life and I can take it away," she told me.

Something in Sam flipped when he realized it was Dean in the picture. He flipped over the table, destroying the alter as Sue Ann took off for the stairs, me closely on her heels. Before I could get to the door, it slammed shut and as I went to open it, the door wouldn't move. Slamming against the door, I grunted as I threw my shoulder into it repeatedly, until Sam pushed me to the side, and then tried it on his own.

"Can't you see?" Sue Ann yelled from outside the door. "The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked. And your brother and sister are wicked and they deserve to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will." Sam stopped struggling against the door and began stomping through the room, shoving things to the side as he went about his mission. "Good bye," Sue Ann called out, leaving me to slam my fists against the wooden slab.

A loud _crrraaaack_ caused me to turn and see Sam pulling a huge chunk of wood from its place on the wall and then smashed it through a small boarded up window. Motioning for me to come to him, he hoisted me up through the window, and told me to get the door open.

Removing the big as beam that Sue Ann had used to trap us, Sam and I bolted towards the tent. Finding the back entrance, Sam sped past me and rushed to where Sue Ann was standing outside of the door, eyes closed, reciting words in Latin. Grabbing the cross from Sue Ann's upraised hands, he then threw it aside to where it collided with a glass bottle that was filled with blood. I moved past them, into the tent, making sure to remain hidden, just for the moment anyway, to see Roy's hand was hovering in the air above Layla's head.

"I don't understand," Roy said, seeming confused.

"I don't… feel any different?" Layla asked him, not confident in her response. The room seemed to stand still, not sure how to react to what'd they seen. "Reverend?" Layla looked up towards Roy, completely confused.

"Sue Ann?" Roy called out, turning to where I was standing, near the back entrance.

The tent opening moved, and Sam's head appeared, nodding for me to that it was time to leave. Moving quietly, so as not to be noticed, I quickly made my way outside, to see Sue Ann laying on the ground, unmoving.

"You still wanna stab her?" Sam asked from where we stood over her, looking down.

"She's not worth the blood on my blade," I growled before spitting near her head.

Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, Sam dragged me away, back towards the Impala, where we saw Dean walking up.

"You okay?" I nodded to my eldest brother, mentally scanning to make sure that he was whole, healthy, and completely intact.

Shaking his head and pulling open his door he answered, "Hell of a week."

Sam released his grip on me and opened his own door. "Yeah… All right, come on. We should get going," he decided before we climbed into the car and headed back to the motel.

* * *

Stuffing the last of my things into my bathroom bag, and squeezing it against my stomach, I struggled to zip it closed. I did it though… Even if my zipper does break open while it's supposedly locked shut. I hate when that happens. Then you've just got this stupid bag that never closes and a zipper that never zips. Double checking I had everything, I clicked off the light and walked into the main area to see Dean sitting on the edge of one of the beds, staring off into space. Looking from his face towards the television, I saw it wasn't even. He was legit staring at nothing. Sam was looking sad and watching Dean, clearly distraught. "What is it?" I asked them, stepping farther into the room and dropping my bathroom bag into my duffel that sat on the bed next to Dean's.

"We did the right thing here, didn't we?" Dean asked me, looking up and seeming as lost as I'd felt this whole case.

Sighing, I lightly smacked my duffel bag, trying to occupy myself. "Yeah, Dean. We did. We got rid of the evil, we did our job. We did exactly what you said we'd have to do. And I'm sorry I had more faith in Roy than I had in you. You were right…"

Dean hung his head. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled.

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, a knock at the door sounded, and Sam announced he would go to get it. As the door opened, Dean and I looked up to see Layla standing there.

"Hey, Layla. Come on in," Sam invited.

"Hey," she smiled warmly, half raising a hand to wave to me.

Dean stood up immediately. "How did you know we were here?"

Layla nodded towards Sam, and began to close the distance between her and Dean. "Sam… called. He said you… wanted to say goodbye?"

What? When did this happen? I looked over at Sam, who was standing next to the open door, looking embarrassed. "I'm gonna… grab a soda. Come on, Bec." I didn't move. Sam just pimped out my brother. He seriously called a woman over, to sleep with my brother. Who told him this was any kind of good idea. Everyone's eyes turned to face me as I stood, frozen to my spot. "Bec?" Sam questioned, not sure what my actions meant. Next thing I knew, I was being led out of the door from a push on the back as Dean guided me towards Sam and the door.

As the door shut behind me, I heard a click, signaling the lock had been done, and I glared at the slab.

"I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT I DO NOT APPROVE OF THIS!" I yelled in a volume that I was sure Dean would hear before Sam clutched a paw around my wrist and dragged me away.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter Fourty-nine.**

**WARNING. THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE MAY BE (BOTH) LONG AND/OR DEPRESSING.**

**"Dear ispiltthemilk, you f*cking suck." I know! But, I think you should bear with me and please hear me out. Please.**

**I actually wasn't going to fill you all in on this, but then I thought about it and figured, you deserve an answer. If you've stuck with me this long, then maybe you'll want to know. This past month has been... rough to say the least. It seems as though my family can't seem to catch a break. Here's the skinny:  
On July 2nd, my amazingly adorable cousin Jordin was born. And I mean it when I say, "adorable". (I think I might be related to the best looking people ever.) I got the chance to meet Jordin on July 14th, late that evening after she'd had surgery, in the hospital. Then, the next day, I was back at the hospital, saying "Good-bye". She passed the next morning. My adorable cousin lived exactly 2 weeks before she drifted off into a quiet, peaceful, painless sleep; and she is the strongest person I've ever seen in my life.  
Things seemed to become a ton of days all rolled into one, and they're still rolling... Yesterday marked exactly one week since the funeral.  
I tried to write to keep my mind off of things that week, I really did, but I couldn't come up with anything. I would write like, a paragraph, and then I'd be blank... I'm sorry I couldn't do more.  
I know that I have asked that you join me in prayers for others in the past, but this time, I ask that you please join me in praying for my family. I don't care who you pray to, how hard you pray, or how much you pray... but that you pray. We need strength. I don't know who, if any of you, follow me on Twitter, or Facebook, or anything, but if you do, and you want to say something - just feel free to shoot me a PM on here, or even Tweet me. (I know sometimes that people just want to reach out and let someone know they're thinking of them, and I don't want to deny anyone that opportunity). You can just hashtag: prayersforJordin so I know what you're talking about, or whatever... And I thank you now if you do pray. It means the world to me. Honest.  
I hope you can all maybe forgive my lengthy pause in updating.**

**For this chapter, I skipped ****_Route 666_**** (the racist monster truck episode). I kind of want to get through Season 1, and really didn't want to dwell on death and heartache, so I skimmed through the last episodes in this season and decided that the one I've worked on here was necessary to the plot. (Sorry Cassie/Dean lovers). If you are just, irate about me skipping the episode, or you are curious as to how I would have addressed certain parts of that episode, please, let me know. I can try to work it out into a ****_Baby Becca_**** chapter to appease you. I think that's a good compromise. Agreed?**

**Since we're talking about ****_Baby Becca_****, please be sure to check it out! I've got some ideas rolling around for that series, but I'm also willing to take requests. Feel free to send my way, guys!**

**Next, this chapter is probably... super sucky. It was really hard for me to write, and I hope from what you all now know, you're understanding of that. It's probably my worst one to date. I think I more or less made Becca a bystander instead of making her a completely separate entity. Forgive me. It's also not as long per "section", but there are a lot of "section"s, so I think that's okay.**  
**The flashback in this episode is going to a longer chapter in ****_Baby Becca_**** one day, (I don't know when), and that is why it is so short and taken out of context.**

**I want to thank the amazing Jenmm31 for having helped me through my rough weeks, and for being there for me with this chapter - especially when she has been so crazy busy herself; and even with a bummy wrist that has banned her from typing for more than like, 30 minutes. PLEASE be sure to check out her page, as I know she has left you all a note on her Profile. Or at least I think she did... She mentioned she was going to... But regardless, you can find her in my "Favorites" tab.**

**I want thank all of you, from the bottom of my heart. We are over 80 followers now, and I'm just, blown away and humbled so much by you all. I cannot believe how many of you enjoy this story. Wow. Thank you. SO much. I want to give a shout out to the last three followers!  
So, extra thanks to:  
**isis. mama **(minus the space)**  
dianesullivan **and**  
caseylu  
**You guys are great! I think I will definitely do some more shout outs when we hit great marks like that, guys! Because you are the reason I do this! All 25,000 plus of you. That's right. Over 25,000 views. Wow. And the rate with which you guys even read a new update. I legit clap my hands and bounce around like a small child. Wow. Thank you ****_so_**** much.**

**I think that was everything... Please be sure to check out the stories in my Favorites tabs, and thank you for clicking on my story. You are my favorite people, ever.  
**

**READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)**

**Disclaimer.  
Movies: ****_Sister Act_**

**WARNING. THIS CHAPTER HAS LINES/COMMENTS/THOUGHTS THAT MAY OFFEND THOSE OF THE CHRISTIAN OR CATHOLIC RELIGION. This is not my intention, or does it reflect my actual beliefs (in anything). What was written was solely for the purpose of the story and are a reflection of Becca and her growing character. Thank you.**

* * *

Jolting awake, I flew off of the couch and ended up diving into a pile of tangled blanket on the floor when something collided with my head. Sitting up, and rubbing my face, I frantically searched around me, finally coming in contact with the pillow that hadn't been there before. Someone is going to die.

"Who in the _hell_ threw this at me?" I snarled angrily as I stood fully erect and clutched the pillow, shaking it in the air.

"We have to go," Sam barked, not even looking at me as he continued to stuff things into his bag like he was on a mission.

Growling, I chucked the pillow behind me, on to the couch, and snatched up my blanket before balling it up and chucking it on to the couch as well. "What's happening?" Dean asked with an energy that made him sound like he'd been awake the whole time and was on red alert.

"We have to go," Sam repeated as an order. "Right now." Before I could blink, his bag was zipped up, in his hand, and he was out the door.

I stared after him, where the door was hanging open, and then over to Dean who was sitting on the bed, the blanket still over his legs from where he'd been sleeping. Neither of said anything for a good minute, and then I broke the silence by throwing my hands in the air and screeching, "What in the hell was that?!"

Dean rolled his eyes and climbed out of the bed. Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a handful of clothes out of his own bag, and then walked past me towards the bathroom. "Apparently we have to go. So, when I'm dressed, we're gone. Pack your crap." Just as he turned to close the bathroom door, he stopped. "Oh, and Bec?"

"Yeah?" I sighed, annoyed, as I ran my own hand through my hair and perched a hand on my hip.

"You really gotta start wearing pants to bed. No one wants to see you in your underwear," he announced before closing the door. Luckily, he closed it in time for the pillow to smack into that and not his pretty face.

* * *

"McReady. Detective McReady. Badge number 158. I've got a signal 480 in progress; I need the registered owner of a two door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven. Yeah, okay, just hurry," Sam rattled off into the phone as Dean sped down the highway.

Sam was crazy freaking out here, and I don't know what is really going on. He'd sped through telling us about having this dream that he had where a guy died. And the only thing to go off of was this guy's license plate. Who has dreams like that? Why, my lovely twin does. And after that dream he had about what's her dude in Lawrence, we aren't exactly taking his dreams lightly anymore. Well, he and I aren't. Dean seems to be trying to calm Sam down, and act like it's just a dream. Right. As if we would be so lucky.

"Sammy, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare," Dean tried to reassure our brother.

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat. "Yeah, tell me about it," he answered, gritting his teeth and staring through the windshield.

"I mean it," Dean replied, his big brother mode kicking in… Not that the thing is ever _off_, but I think I've told you enough stories by now that you pretty much know what I mean. "Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"Ew. Have you really had naked-in-class nightmares? Gross. Who would want to see that? I'm so glad I've never had that kind of dream," I quipped. And I haven't. Honest. I'm pretty much only naked in the shower. And even then, there's like, a twenty percent chance I might be at least partially clothed… Okay, fully clothed. NOT THE POINT.

Sam apparently didn't care about _my_ dreams. Selfish. He just turned to look at Dean, annoyed. "It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica."

Leaning forward, I placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. "That makes sense, Sam. You were dreaming about our house and your girlfriend… This guy in your dream, have you ever seen him before?"

"No," Sam sighed out, aggravated.

"No. Exactly," Dean cut in, maybe a little bit harshly. "Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"

Because nothing ever makes sense. Why wouldn't Sam be dreaming about random people in Michigan? Hell, he's _probably_ dreaming about crazy stuff like, I don't even know. Didn't he say lollipops and candy canes once? Well, then he's probably dreaming about evil, satanic lollipops and candy canes all hopped up and attacking people. Great. Now I can't eat lollipops _or _candy canes. "I don't know," Sam answered Dean's question.

"Me neither," Dean sighed almost quietly as Sam turned back to the phone on his ear and said, "Yes, I'm here."

I placed my hand on Dean's shoulder then, and squeezed, and he caught my eyes in the rearview. I could see the slight worry in them, along with a mix of uncertainty and almost, fear. None of us really knew what any of these dreams meant, or anything – but we knew that the last two were too serious to ignore. I caught Sam's glare towards us before he picked up a pen and then chucked a map at my face. Catching the map, I glared back and then began to unfold it, ready for instructions.

"Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks," Sam told whoever was on the other line while my eyes scanned the index grid for Saginaw. Running my finger to where we would currently be located in comparison, I quickly did my method for finding the mileage between the two. "Checks out," Sam relayed to us as he ended his call. Turning in the seat to face me and watch me work my map reading magic, his brows rose as he blurted, "How far are we?"

"Couple 'a hours. At least," I informed him, folding the map into just the section I needed and then snatched the pen from his hand to bold out our route before I handed it over.

Sam read the map over and then looked to Dean. "Drive faster," he ordered.

* * *

The ride really wasn't that that long, but with how antsy and impatient Sam was being, you would have thought we had been stuck in the car for about thirty straight hours or something. _Finally_ we made it into Saginaw, and got directions to the exact house, which took up even more of Sam's precious time; and it was dark by the time we rolled up and saw flashing lights on top of Emergency vehicles, and then someone was being zipped up into one of those body bags. I gasped audibly and my eyes went wide. This wasn't right. Sam didn't even know this guy. Why would he have dreamed about this? I don't know what Sam and Dean's expressions were, because I was too transfixed on the site.

"Look, Sam, we'll figure this out, all right?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam didn't respond, and then I heard Dean sigh heavily and exit the car. Watching him walk away, I blinked and faced my very upset twin. Opening my mouth to try and talk to him, Sam just clenched his jaw. "Come on," he bit before climbing out of the car, and opening my door for me. Following behind Sam, we came up to stand on the side of the woman that Dean was currently talking to. "Did you know them?" Sam questioned as we stopped walking.

The woman nodded and pulled her sweater jacket thing tighter around her. "Saw him in every Sunday at St. Augustine's. He always seems…_seemed_," she corrected herself, "so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

Yeah, tell me about it. My twin's whole mind seems to be behind a closed door. He's having dreams about strangers and candy, and now I don't even know what's going on any more. You know what, I freaking need a drink so bad. For real. When we figure out whatever the hell is going on, I vote we stop at a bar, and I then vote that Becca get drunk. Sam and Dean can stay sober and take care of drunken Becca. Yes. I'm definitely putting this in motion when we wrap this mumbo jumbo up.

Dean was muttering a something, and I cleared my throat, drawing the attention of everyone down to me. "How did…ah… How are they saying it happened?" I pressed towards the lady we were talking to.

The woman lifted her eyes from me back to the scene in front of us. "I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running," she explained.

"Do you know about what time they found him?" I heard Sam ask past what I assumed was a lump in his throat.

"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through," she sighed out as she indicated to three people standing in front of the house. A woman was crying and leaning into a middle aged man for comfort. I felt myself feel for her. Holy Swiss cheese, I'm turning into such a girl. I swear I wasn't this fem until Sam came back. Him and his damn estrogen…

I was still watching the small family when the arm of Sam's jacket rubbed against my arm as he turned and started walking back towards the car. Watching him over my shoulder, I saw Dean quickly follow him. Thanking the woman for all of her explanations, I caught up to my brothers just in time to hear Sam sigh, "So what do you think killed him?"

"Sam, maybe the guy just killed himself. Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all… Maybe you read the dream wrong?" I told him as we stood beside the car.

Shaking his head, I could immediately read on his face that what I just said wasn't the case at all. "I'm telling you," he disagreed, "I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, you guys. I watched it _trap_ him in the garage."

"What was it, a spirit, a poltergeist, what?" Dean bit quickly, clearly wanting answers as to what was going on with Sam. I could tell Dean didn't like that Sam's dreams were coming true, or that he was even having them, but it's not like he could help it!

Sam was getting worked up as he answered. "I don't know what it was! I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening, Dean!"

Stepping between them, I put a hand on each of their arms. I knew they weren't about to go all _Lion King_, Simba and Scar battle or anything, but they needed to know that causing a scene wasn't going to help any. "All right you guys, relax. Don't start yelling at each other. Let's just figure out what's going on and fix it, okay?"

Looking up to one brother and then to the next, I groaned when Sam snipped out a, "What," when Dean's gaze bore into him for like, an eternity.

Shrugging and shaking off my hold, Dean brushed it off. "Nothing. I'm just... I'm worried about you, man."

"Well, don't look at me like that!" Sam barked.

Looking over his shoulder, back towards the house, Dean avoided Sam's eyes. "I'm not looking at you like anything," he retorted.

"You guys, stop," I told them as I felt Sam's frustration consume me. "Dean, come on," I fought when Dean continued to look away from us.

Finally, Dean glanced back towards us with a small smile on his lips. "Though, I gotta say, you do look like crap."

"Nice, Dean," I fumed. This guy can really be a tool sometimes.

"Thanks," Sam snorted, clearly still upset.

Dean shot a "_deal with it_" smirk our way and then opened his door to the Impala. "Come on; let's just pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, talk to the family," he suggested.

Sam didn't move though. "Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us."

"Yeah, you're right," our brother responded, the gears in his head going at full force. Well, I mean, it doesn't take much. You can pretty much ask him if he wants crunchy or creamy peanut butter and he has to think this hard about it. "But I think I know who they will talk to."

"Who?" Sam and I questioned at the same time, only to receive a smirk from Dean before he got into the driver's seat.

Oh, this is _so_ not going to be good.

* * *

And I was right. "This has gotta be a whole new low for us," Sam sighed out as I continued to scratch at my sides. Eff this. Crap, twenty bucks says you can't think that while wearing this stupid thing. Great. I just said this thing was stupid. Twice. If I wasn't going to hell before, I am now. Dean turned to smirk at Sam and then winked down at me, to receive a super eye glare. Screw you Dean. You're not the one wearing this stupid thing. Great. The devil is going to make me his personal slave after all of this. Sticking my hand under the rim of the wimple – yeah, that's right, this shitty thing is called a wimple – and veil, I scratched vigorously at my head. I felt like I was on fire. Who knew these things were so hot! The door opened and the man from last night looked surprised to see us standing there.

"Good afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and Sister Mary Clarence." Right, because I freaking look identical to Whoopi Goldberg. What a moron. "We're new junior priests, and our Sister here is in line to take her vows over at St. Augustine's. May we come in?" The man nodded, still seeming confused, but allowed us in anyway. "Thanks," Dean smiled, leading the way.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam consoled as we followed the man through the house.

"It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed," Dean continued. Laying it on a little thick there, aren't you, Dean? My God – yep, there's _another _strike against me. Jesus, damn it! FREAKING AY!

Stopping and turning to face us, the man held up his hands. "Look, you wanna pitch your whole "Lord has a plan" thing? Fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."

I felt myself swallow. Well, that's one way to put it. I mean, we were just trying to be nice. Sort of. We were actually scheming while wearing a couple of priest's and nun costumes. I feel like even our own father would disapprove of this. Or maybe laugh. We're so warped as human beings. "Roger. Please!" a woman reprimanded, coming into the room.

"Excuse me," Roger clipped, waving us off and leaving the room.

The woman stepped up to us, and looked disapprovingly after Roger. "I'm sorry about my brother-in-law. He's… he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be great," I smiled to her, deepening my smile when she seemed relieved and smiled back.

* * *

Sitting down on the couch after having helped Ms. Miller with the coffee preparation, I thanked her as she handed me a full mug. Ew. She left no room to add creamer or sugar. Gross. Forcing a grateful smile, I sipped it and just about spit it right back into the mug. Let's just set that on the coffee table and pretend it doesn't exist. Looking over my shoulder, I had to push my veil back to get a direct look at Ms. Miller when she started speaking. "It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now."

"Of course," Dean smiled as he accepted the coffee with no problem. "After all we are all God's children."

I choked back a laugh and caught Sam's eyes as Ms. Miller walked away with the pot of coffee. Dean looked so proud of himself as he leaned forward and scooped up about half of the small sausages that were sitting on the table. "Oh my God," I tried to whisper, gaining a smirk and shake of the head from Sam, and a look of confusion from Dean.

"What?" he questioned, almost seeming offended by my remark.

I couldn't answer him without some sort of sarcastic comment. That was for sure. I instead just pinched my lips and gave him a, "_oh I can't take you seriously_" face while waving my hand out in front of me, leaving Sam to answer. "Just… tone it down a little bit, _Father_." I had to choke back another laugh.

Immediately fighting to collect myself, I straightened up my posture when Dean spoke. "So, Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?"

Sitting beside me, she shook her head. "Nothing like that. We had our ups and down like everyone but we were happy." She began to cry and her body began to shake from the built up tension. I quickly turned to face Sam, looking for some sort of instruction of what to do next, and he motioned for me to like, hug her or something. IS THIS GUY NEW?! Does he realize how uncomfortable and _bad_ I am at that sort of thing? Sobs started to cut into Ms. Miller's words, and I found myself moving over on the couch to sit beside her and wrap an arm around her, rubbing her upper arm, soothingly. "I just don't understand… how Jim could do something like this," she told us after a few minutes of crying and me… touching her.

"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that," I told her quietly.

"Actually," she indicated over towards the doors in the distance, "our son, Max, he was the one who found him."

His _kid_ found him? Oh man, talk about brutal. I don't know if I'd be able to handle that. "Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?" Sam offered. What? Oh great. Sure, leave me here with Father Way-too-into-his-role over here. I shot Sam an unthankful look.

"Oh, thank you, Father!" Ms. Miller smiled through tears that continued to stream down her cheeks. Yeah. Thanks.

The minute Sam sat down with Max, Dean leaned forward to face Ms. Miller and me, where I had scooted away from her. "Ms. Miller, you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?"

Wiping her eyes with a tissue, she seemed a little confused. "We moved in about five years ago."

"There's only problems with these old houses," Dean smiled. "I bet you have all kind of headaches."

Not following his train of thought, I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Like what?" out of honest curiosity.

He shot me a look, instantly making me look towards my hands like I was seven and in trouble, he held back his sarcastic, "_don't be dumb_" tone. "Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night. That kind of thing."

"No," Ms. Miller shook her head at him, "nothing like that. It's been perfect."

"Huh," Dean lingered for a second while I looked at my fingers some more. I'm seriously roasting in this nun's uniform. I think I'm melting right now. Can you get sweat gland removal? Because I think I'm going to need it. Yeesh, I for sure am forming a puddle. "May I use your bathroom?" I heard my brother ask, causing me to instantly snap my head up to him in a slight panic.

"Oh sure, it's just up the stairs," Ms. Miller indicated.

Dean stood and grabbed another sausage before making his way to the staircase. He did not just leave me alone with this lady. Oh no, oh no, oh no, I hate him. The silence didn't last long before Ms. Miller blankly stared ahead and muttered out an, "I just don't know what I'm going to do, Sister," to me. I didn't really even get a chance to respond before she was latched onto me, crying, and soaking my shoulder with tears.

* * *

Coming out of the bathroom, I kicked the nun's uniform out ahead of me, in an angry haste. "Problem?" Dean asked as he continued to clean his weapons on the table.

Bending over and picking up the uniform, I spiked it onto my bag which sat on the floor next to the table. "I. Hate. This. Thing!" I yelled out of frustration as I pelted each piece into the top of my bag. "It's hot, and heavy, and now it has heart-broken, widow tears all over it. The wimple thing gave me this _rash_ thing on my skin – I bet it was that stupid Snuggle's bear. I thought you were going to kill that son of a bitch!" I angrily ranted.

"Calm down," Dean told me the tone that said I was being dramatic… again. "You could probably try to fit that costume a little better you know. Play your part."

"Oh yeah, because you're _such_ a convincing junior priest," I sarcastically bit back.

"I'm closer to being a priest than you are a nun," he interjected as he set down one gun and picked up the next.

Flopping onto his bed and make sure to wipe my feet on his pillow, I stared up at the ceiling, and rolled my eyes. "Right. I'll remember that next time you lie to some waitress just to get her into bed with you, _Father_."

"You know what –" he started saying before the opening of the motel door cut him off. "What do you have?" he snipped to Sam who walked in, eyeing us with confusion. This guy must have the strangest idea of what goes on between me and Dean. I've never seen someone look so confused in his whole life. Every time Sam comes around us, it's like he's just walked into some weird part of a conversation or situation or something. See what happens when you play Geek Boy and research instead of going back to the motel and chillin' like a villain? Not a real villain. That's like, against my code of ethics. Wait… do I even _have_ a code of ethics, or is having a code of ethics against the hunter's code of ethics? What would a hunter's code of ethics even be? No shooting the innocent – unless you're unsure? Shoot first, ask questions later? Or is that just my dad and Dean? Ugh, my brain hurts.

I tipped my head back so that I was looking at an upside down Sam. "A whole lot 'a nothing," he sighed as he shut the door. "Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built."

"What about the land?" I asked as I laid flat once more, staring at the ceiling.

There was a pressure next to me, and a tug on my hair as Sam sat down beside me. "No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

Lifting my hand closest to Sam, I started to push against him being on my hair. "Sam, get off," I groaned. Then I groaned again when he grabbed a pillow and stuck it over my face. Ew! I wiped my feet on this thing!

Fighting against the pillow that my lovely twin was "_holding in place_" as he explained it later, I heard Dean not even bother to help me. "Hey man, I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent. Nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?" Sam questioned as I finally managed to get the pillow off my face.

Slapping him with the back of my hand, I pulled against where he was sitting on my hair, only for him not to move. It's like these two don't even care about me. You know, if Dad was here, he'd probably tell Sam to get off my head and get serious. Then again, if Dad were here, there's no real guarantee _Sam _would be here. "Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there, you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infer-red thermal scanner, man, and there was nothing."

"So, what," I grunted out as I continued to try and pull against Sam's hold on my hair. "You think Jim Miller killed himself and that Super Psychic's dream over here was just some freakish coincidence?" Apparently, Sam didn't like my newest nickname for him, because as I pulled, he lifted off my hair, and I spun, and he pushed me, and I ended up on the floor.

"I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing –" Dean started before I cut him off with a shout from the floor.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?! DID YOU JUST SEE WHAT HE DID TO ME, DEAN?! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO YELL AT HIM!"

"– supernatural about that house," he continued. "Sam, help her up so she quits whinin', would ya?" he then sighed out as he switched his cleaning to yet another weapon.

Sam didn't exactly jump up to help me or anything. Instead, I pulled myself up and glared at my twin from my spot on the floor, to see he was rubbing his temples. Oh you have a headache now? Just wait. "Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house." He had to stop himself from talking and took a sharp inhale. My glare dropped and my mouth went slack as I saw his pain increase on his face. Something was wrong.

"Sam?" I questioned gingerly, climbing onto the bed, settling beside him.

"Maybe it's just… Gosh," he tried to continue, his jaw clenching and his hand moving from his temple to his forehead, "maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"Sam, are you okay?" I quietly asked when I saw him start to bend over in pain. "Sam, come on…" I tried as I grabbed his shoulders.

Stopping his cleaning and looking over to us, I heard the concern in Dean's voice. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly with just as much concern and worry. Suddenly Sam slid from my hands and landed on the floor, all curled up, his forehead practically against his knees. "Sam!"  
He started to groan and cry out in pain, "Ahh. My head!"

I didn't even have to tell Dean to help me as I climbed off of the bed and clung to my twin. "Sam? Hey," Dean called quietly as he joined our huddle and grabbed Sam's arms while I quickly got up to grab a cold, wet washcloth. "Hey! What's going on? Talk to me."

Rushing into the room from the bathroom, I threw the bottle of Aspirin at Dean and fell to my knees, ready to give Sam the small cup of water and the cold compress. Sam's face scared me. He was staring ahead, blankly, and his brows and lids to his eyes were shifting as though he was watching a movie and each second was registering in his mind. Then, suddenly, it was like a fogginess disappeared from his eyes and they became clear again, snapping him back to reality.

"It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller," he stated as though he hadn't just been in a world of pain.

* * *

Sitting in the front seat, I was turned and watching Sam hold his head. "Yeah, Roger Miller. No, no. I just need the address, please. Okay, thank you." Writing down what the man was telling me on the line, I repeated it out loud for Dean. "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120. Okay, thank you so much," I told the man before ending the call. "Sam, are you going to be okay?"

He looked sick. Like, _sick_. He was holding his head, his mouth was open as he clenched his jaw so tight, Dean couldn't have rivaled it – and that guy can clench a jaw pretty tightly. There was a layer of sweat on his forehead, and he looked white, like, _white_. "Yeah," he moaned.

"If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over, you know, cause the upholstery –"

"Dean!" I scolded at the same time Sam bit, "I'm fine!"

"All right!" Dean snapped back, defensively.

Glaring at my eldest brother, I then turned my attention back to my twin. "Just drive, Dean," I muttered. Sam sighed and I frowned. Ignoring the protest from Dean, I climbed over the seat and sat next to my brother. "Sam, are you sure you're okay?" I asked quietly, trying to keep the conversation just between us.

He avoided my gaze and looked out of the window past my face. "I'm scared, Bec. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."

He didn't look down at me, and I just watched his face while my instincts told me to hug him. Seriously, the only people my instincts ever tell me to hug are my brothers. Sam looked scared. His eyes were searching, and lost. I didn't know what to do or say to make it better, but I really wanted to make it better. "Don't be like that, Sam. You'll be okay. Everything is gonna be fine. I'll help you."

"What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?" he finally looked down at me, and a tight pull happened in my chest.

This wasn't fair. Who the hell decided my family had to the one to suffer all the time. Freaking, we never catch a break. Things attack my brothers and father specifically, and I'm left here with all these broken pieces that I have to constantly just put back together over and over again. "I… I don't know what to tell you, Sam… but I promise we're gonna figure it out –" I started as Dean cut me off.

"She's right, Sam. We've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing." So apparently he _could_ hear what we'd been talking about. But Dean was wrong. This wasn't another thing.

"No," Sam instantly argued. "It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, guys, you can tell me this doesn't freak you out."

Sam and I watched as Dean looked out the window and didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally he said, "This doesn't freak me out," causing Sam and I to look at each other.

"It freaks me out," I admitted quietly, causing Sam to frown, making me regret my words.

* * *

Dean pulled up alongside the front of the apartment building, and as our luck would have it, there was good ole Roger walking up with a bag of whatever. "Hey Roger!" Sam called out, pushing me into the back of the bench as he crawled over me.

Roger froze and looked at us, shocked. "What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone," he blew us off.

"Please!" Sam pressed, eagerly, only for Roger to ignore him completely. Dean didn't wait, and gunned the engine, following Roger to his best abilities and then parked quickly. "Hey. Roger. We're trying to help!" Sam yelled while opening the door and continuing to climb over me to exit the car and then running after Roger who was unlocking the door. "Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" I watched that just as Sam made it to the door, it closed, Roger not even giving Sam a chance to explain.

Dean and I had followed hot on Sam's heels, hoping to help him persuade Roger.

"I don't want your help!" we heard from the other side of the door that had closed in our brother's face.

"We're not priests! She's not a nun! You gotta listen to us!" Sam yelled loudly, hoping to make Roger hear him.

When that didn't work, Dean pounded on the door, yelling, "Roger, you're in danger!"

Looking around us, I saw a neighbor half way up their front walk, watching us cautiously. "Come on, you guys. Come on, come on. Move!" I instructed with a couple of shoves as I pushed them away from the door and the nosey neighbor.

Running around to the back entrance of the apartment… area. It wasn't like, the building itself or anything, you know? Just like, an enclosure. Anyway, we found that the door, as usual, was locked. Great. Now we're going to have to break in, and we already have nosey neighbors all up in our business. We're so going down… Dean's sudden kick to the door ripped my from my thoughts, and I was then shoved ahead of both my brothers towards the actual building. I was hoisted up and then climbed the small ladder of the fire escape quickly running up the metal stairs until I reached where Roger's place was. Hold up. His apartment number is 1120. HOLY KAHLUA IN MY COFFEE, does that mean I have to run to the ELEVENTH floor? Oh, kill me now. Apparently, my realization made me slow down, because Sam practically knocked me over and off the fire escape as he sped past me and continued to take the stairs at about a flight at a time. How long _are_ his legs?! Good grief! Dean helped me steady myself before we took off again. I don't know how many flights we'd gone up, but I ran into the back of Sam when there was a slam of a window and this wet… squishy… gross… I can't describe it noise. It was like someone stuck their hand in a bowl of meat or straight into a juicy watermelon or something. It was so gross. Dean ran past Sam and me and up to the window just above us, staring ahead. Sam started going up the stairs, me right behind him when he stopped.

"No, Becca, stay down there. You don't need to see this. Here," Dean quickly commanded, tossing a handkerchief at my face. "Start wiping down our prints, we don't want the cops to know we were here." My hands were moving around before he finished the words, swiping the rag back and forth on all the metal railings and anything else I could have possibly touched while on my way up here. "Come on, come on!" Dean hurried as Sam quickly joined me and began to vigorously wipe harder on areas I hadn't hit yet. "I'm gonna take a look inside," Dean told us. I looked up and watched him use his own handkerchief to lift the window carefully. Shifting my eyes to Sam, I saw him start wiping harder at the railings, a very angry look on his face.

* * *

Thanking the waitress as she set down his plate of food, Dean lowered his voice and looked at Sam who was sitting across from us. "I'm telling you, there was nothing in there. No signs, either, just like the Miller's house."

"I saw something, in the vision," Sam fumed, ignoring the plate in front of him. "Like, a dark shape… Something was… something was _stalking_ Roger."

"Why don't you just try eating something, okay? You need to eat something. Your vision quest, headache, psychic things might be less intense if you eat," I pleaded. I don't know if I'd seen him eat the whole time we'd been here. I watched him with eagle eyes until I saw him reluctantly stuff a fork full of lettuce into his face.

"All right," Dean changed the subject and adjusted himself, propping his elbows on the table while he held his burger. "Well, whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?"

Half swallowing his food, Sam sipped on his water. "No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like, a vengeful spirit?"

"Well, yeah," Dean answered through a mouthful of food. "There's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."

Staring at him in disgust as he took another bite, I slid my plate away from me. "God, you're nauseating," I muttered.

Sipping on his bottle, he eyed me like I was crazy. "What are you complaining about now?"

Making a face, I semi-glared at him. "You could try _chewing_ with your mouth closed, and _not_ talking with food in your hole."

Setting his burger down, he took a long draw on the bottle. Probably to clear out his disgusting mouth. "You talk with food in your mouth all the time."

"And you always give me shit for it. Besides, I'm sure I look better than you do when I do it, too. Learn manners, ya oaf."

"You know, you can shove those manners right up your –"

"What is going on with you two?" Sam cut in, looking at us like we were nuts. "You're constantly going back and forth.

Dean and I caught each other's eyes and furrowed our brows. "What?" We both asked at the same time. "Sammy, nothing's going on with us."

Popping a fry into my mouth, I agreed. "Yeah, this is normal. You know, witty banter. Dean thinks he's cool and has some sort of witty line, only to realize he's dumb and that he can't possibly match my quality or level of awesomeness."

"Oh yeah, that's it."

"Whatever," Sam shook off. "Do the two of you think we could maybe focus on the case a little more than your lack of table manners?"

Whoa, when did the roles reverse in my life? Yeesh. Try to lighten up a couple of situations and the trees get all flustered. Remind me not to ruffle this guy's branches anytime soon. Picking his burger back up, Dean made a point in speaking _before _he took a bite. "All right, fine. What latches onto families and follows them for years?"

"Angiak," Sam offered.

"Banshees," I followed.

"Right. Basically like a curse. So, maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something _curse_ worthy," Dean concluded.

Nodding his head Sam slid his plate to the side, only to have me slide it right back under his nose. "And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying… Hey, you think Max is in danger?"

Stealing a few of my fries, Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Let's figure it out before he is," he stated before he went to shove the fries into his mouth. Lucky for me, I was close enough to clap his hand right into his face. Woot. Becca: 1 Dean: about a billion, probably.

Ignoring Dean's pinning me to the wall on the inside of the booth, Sam continued, thankfully taking another bite of his salad. "Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people."

"Wassss…. Zat," I asked through squished cheeks while Dean practically sat on me to get back for the fry thing.

"Both our families are cursed," Sam simply shrugged.

Letting up on me, Dean huffed and went back to his bottle. "Our family's not cursed!" Then he eyed me as though he was rethinking what he'd just said. "Then again… No! Our family's not cursed. We just…" he lingered as I tossed a fry at the side of his head, "have our _dark spots_."

"Our dark spots are… pretty dark," Sam leaned back into the bench and watched us, also eyeing me as though I were the _actual_ dark spot in the family.

Biting into my grilled sandwich Panini thing, I spoke through my food. "You're… dark," I barely got out, only to receive a piece of Sam's grilled chicken bouncing into my forehead and shove to the inside wall from my side.

* * *

So, I'm dressed up like a nun again… because _supposedly_ it's unlikely that a nun in the running will change her mind and decide she doesn't want to look like a penguin for the rest of her life. Whoever decided Dean should be oldest is not a nice person. He should definitely be youngest, and _I_ should be oldest so that _I_ can tell _him_ what to do. But don't worry. I learned my lesson from last time. No jeans. That was a definite mistake. I was fixing my veil, wimple free this time, when the door opened. "My mom's resting," Max told us as he took in our appearances and then led us through the house once more. "She's pretty wrecked."

"Of course," Dean answered.

"All these people kept coming with like, casseroles. I finally had to tell them to go away. You know, 'cause nothing says "I'm sorry" like a tuna casserole."

Ew. Who likes warm tuna? I don't even like _cold_ tuna. If I even see that casserole, I may or may not need a bucket. I shot him a shaky smile that Max surprisingly returned. Then he led us all into the living area from before and indicated we all take seats. "How are you holding up?" I quietly asked as I sat across from Max.

He nodded his head. "Okay."

"Your dad and your uncle were close…" Sam began, looking for a way to subtly hint at what had happened.

Scoffing slightly, Max looked at Sam. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."

"But not lately much?" Sam pressed.

"No," Max answered without a second thought. "It's not that. It's just… we used to be neighbors when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

I guess that makes sense. Someone moves, you hardly see them. Nothing sketch about that. "Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" Sam continued to push.

Jesus – great, here come more reasons for me going to hell. What's the point of even trying to fight it now… But seriously. Don't you think that _maybe_ Sam could be a little more non-direct? Lord Almighty this guy… "It was fine," Max answered, not understanding. "Why?"

Dean stopped Sam before he could get further on a roll. "All good memories?" he asked. "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?"

Max shook his head like we were crazy. "What do ya… why do you ask?" Max almost seemed a little offended. Not that I blame him, but I mean, still. I don't like people getting testy with my peeps.

"It's just a question," I answered with hard eyes, making Max do a double take towards me.

"No, there was nothing," he bit. "We were totally normal. _Happy_."

Liar.

"Good," Dean sighed. "That's good. Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right," Sam agreed, laying a hand on my arm, breaking me out of my stare down with Max. "Thanks, Max," he smiled before leading me out of the house.

Once we got through the door, I ripped the veil off my head and ran a hand through my hair. "I don't like that little prick."

"Whoa," Dean held up his hands as we stopped next to car. "Since when do you talk like that?"

"Since I decided I don't like that little –" I stopped myself after seeing Dean's eyes. Sure, I can say, "_son of a bitch_" and call people assholes and stuff, but call a kid a prick and all hell breaks loose. Man. You'd think it was the first time I swore or something. Which, it wasn't. Dean wasn't even there for that.

_"Sam!" I yelled out, shocked to see him holding the guy off of the ground by a couple of inches. "What are you doing?! Put him down!" I quickly tried to pull him off of our classmate._

_ "You don't get to talk to her like that," Sam snarled, ignoring me. His face was so close to the guy's that their noses were practically touching. I'd never seen him so angry._

_ "Put him down!" I ordered, continuing to try and pry his tight hold away from the neckline of the shirt. He had never acted like this before. It was almost like I was watching Dean instead, and I didn't like it._

_ Sam didn't even look at me. He kept glaring death at the freaked out guy in his hands. "You didn't hear what he said, Becca," he told me before slamming the kid into the fence again._

_ "I don't care! You don't get to just attack people! Sam, you're being a… a… an asshole!"_

_ My body went into a responsive shock. My eyes widened and my hands flew to my mouth. I can't believe I just said that. No way did I just say that. I did NOT just say that… I can't believe I just said that! Sam's eyes went completely round and he froze as I squeaked in surprise. Slowly, he turned to look at me, shocked out of his gourd. "What'd you just call me?" he questioned as though he'd misheard me completely. Shaking my head, I wouldn't lower my hands from my mouth._

Yeah, that had been fun. "Look, all I'm saying is he is full of it and hiding something. And I don't trust him, or like him, and he knows something."

Dean just gave me a disapproving look before leaning on the side of the car. "Well, you've got a point. No one's family is totally normal and happy. Did you see when he was talking about his old house?"

"He sounded scared," Sam nodded.

"He sounded like a liar," I argued.

"Okay," Dean cut in. "Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.

As Sam and I agreed, we each went to climb into the car. "Wait," I asked before anyone opened any doors. "We're gonna stop at the motel, right? To change?"

Shrugging, Dean seemed undecided. "Why?"

"Because I really don't want to wear this anymore…" I indicated to the uniform as I pulled at the sides of it.

"So take it off," he rattled.

My eyes went wide and I got really bright red in the cheek area. "Dean," I whispered. "I'm not wearing anything underneath this… It was too hot last time."

"Oh, I don't need to hear this," Dean whined before opening the door and throwing himself into the car like a punished child.

* * *

After we made a pit stop and re-clothed ourselves in _proper_ garments, we'd figured out where the old neighborhood was, and made our way over there. Once we found the exact house, we saw a neighbor working in his yard, and made our way over to ask him some questions.

"Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Sam asked as I stood on one side of him and looked up at the man.

Nodding, he seemed content. "Yeah, almost 20 years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"

Watching his eyes scan over Dean and Sam, I smiled in memory of the time they'd been told they were gay back in Oklahoma. I couldn't help but laugh a little. "No, no, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe."

Yeah, I think Sam might have been remembering Oklahoma, too. "Yeah," Dean added, trying to switch subjects, "the Millers. They had a little boy called Max."

"Right."

The man looked over the house over our heads, and then back down to us. "I remember. The brother had the place next door. So uh, what's this about, is that poor kid okay?"

My interest quickly changed with that comment. "What do you mean?" I immediately asked, flashing my eyes up to the man and trying to make him see how much I needed to know the information.

His face seemed to droop as his hands loosened and re-gripped the item in his hands. "Well, in my life I've never seen a child treated like that… I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street. He was a _mean_ drunk. He used to beat the tar out 'a Max. Bruises. Broke his arms two times that I know of."

A lump formed in my throat and I felt goose bumps cover my skin. That's horrible. Like, really, _really_ horrible. Instinctively, I linked my arm through Sam's and pulled him tightly to me. It's like he knew, because he squeezed my arm tightly with his own. "This was going on regularly?" I asked the man quietly.

"Practically every day. In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy… but the worst part was the step-mother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good," the man explained.

My heart broke for Max. Man, I owe my dad a _huge_ hug. He might have been a brutal guy, but he didn't _beat_ me. Next to the Miller's standards, he was a real stand up guy. "Now, you said step-mother," Dean caught.

"I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident, I think." Sam's arm disappeared from its spot around mine, and I watched as his hand flew to his head and he grimaced in pain. "Are you okay there?" the man questioned and my arms instantly readied to help my brother.

Choking out a "yeah", Sam allowed me to try and walk him back towards the car. "Thanks for your time," Dean told the man before he appeared at the other side of Sam.

"Yeah, thanks," I added over my shoulder as Sam's weight seemed to be disappearing and Dean and I were now fully supporting him.

"God…" Sam moaned before looking up and having the same glazed, fogged over look from that day at the motel.

"Sam?" I asked, trying to get him to focus his attention back on what was going on around him. "Sam…" he didn't even seem to hear me. I shook him slightly, with no response. It was like he was just there… comatose almost. "Sam!" I yelled angrily, still receiving no response.


End file.
